Sorry About Dinner
by Rabblocked
Summary: It's been ages since Sherlock and Irene last saw each other and unforseen circumstances force the two together, however, all is not as it seems, and the two are forced to make a decision, a decision that will shape their future and lives. Love, hate, and everything that lies between.
1. First Drinks

Sorry About Dinner

By Rabblocked.

CHAPTER ONE: Appetiser

"Run it through again." Sherlock snapped, doing his best to control the swelling anger in his chest.

The hotel desk clerk swallowed and nodded quickly, swiping his card through the machine. "Beep."

"I'm sorry Mr. Carlton, but your card has been declined."

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "That card should be good!" He bit back.

The clerk quivered, "I'm sorry, sir." He replied quietly.

Sherlock scrunched his face in annoyance, slamming his fist on the desk. His funds were clearly getting low. Being dead for two weeks had been exhausting, he was not looking forward to the next couple months.

Irene walked down the steps of the hotel, into the main lobby and froze. A very familiar figure was in what appeared to be a heated discussion at the check out desk. She slowly snuck over to stand behind him, disguising herself as a patient customer. She listened to their conversation.

"Let me try another card." Sherlock mumbled, grabbing his wallet from his trouser pocket. He handed the clerk his MasterCard and waited. The clerk ran it through the machine. "Beep."

"Declined, sir."

Sherlock sighed. "Perhaps it's your bloody machine!?" he began, unable to contain his anger any more, "Can I talk to your manager-"

Irene understood the situation immediately, that was when an idea formed in her mind. A beautifully simple one. She peered at the card he was trying to use. Last name was Carlton. "Professor Carlton?" she said in a very believable shocked voice. "It's me, Claudia. You taught me psychology at University." She put a bright expression on her face.

Sherlock froze as _her_ voice hit his ears. He turned around slowly to face the woman that stood behind him. His eyes widened, slightly and he opened his mouth, hesitating for just a moment, before picking up her stride.

A smile spread on his lips. "Ah, Claudia! How are you? Finished your Masters, I take it?"

Irenes eyes glinted. "I did, did very well as well. I'm doing great now thank you, just taking some time for myself. I reckon I'm doing better than you. Not much work for a disgraced professor is there? And to think you lost your job over me. Still, we did have our fun didn't we?" She winked at Sherlock. "Here, let me get this, for old times sake" She leaned over to give her card to the clerk with a smile.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, clentching his jaw in rage. '_How dare she!_, he thought. As if his old reputation hadn't been tainted enough. Forcing himself to remain calm, Sherlock gave her a small smile. "I'll pay you back at once." He replied shortly.

Irene leant in slightly, and said "Oh. I'm counting on it" Just loud enough for the clerk to hear before leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "Long time no see, Mr Holmes. Having trouble with our funds are we? Never mind. My room is big enough for two."

He flinched at her close proximity, as well as at her words, refusing to honour them with a response. He glanced around the lobby uncomfortably and then back at her. "Are you going to show me to your room or not?" he said lowly.

Her eyes danced at his words. She leant back and turned to the clerk, taking her card back with a wink. "Looks like I'm not checking out after all." She smirked before turning to walk towards the elevator and pressed the button.

He followed her reluctantly, keeping his distance as best he could. They waited for the guests to exit before entering the small, elegant lift. He kept his eyes down. "Thank you." He muttered, barely audible over the soft elevator music.

"You're welcome" She said with another smirk. "So what brings you here, Mr. Holmes? Looking for a luxurious death?"

He glared at her from the corner of his eye, ignoring her joke. "I needed a place where I could hide and keep an eye on John." he replied, curtly. "This hotel's proximity is perfect. Besides, it's not really my style, and therefore, I'm not likely to be recognised."

She nodded at his words. "Except you have been recognised. You have quite a unique look Mr. Holmes. Not many people have hair like yours and even less have those cheekbones." She pretended to lose her train of thought. "What was I saying?" She purred with a wink.

He clenched his jaw harder. She knew how to enrage him, though most people did. Still with her it was a game; there were objectives and goals. Others did it merely by accident-a byproduct of their idiot brains.

"I've been lucky. Til now." He responded blankly.

"Oh, but you have been lucky now. I wonder how you would have been able to pay for your stay otherwise" She mused as the elevator doors opened. She walked out of the elevator, knowing Sherlock would follow her.

He swallowed his urge to lash out, treading behind her down the hall. He waited for her to get the key and open the door.

As they approached the door to her room, she took out her key and unlocked the door in one fluid motion. She walked into the room, holding the door open slightly for him before taking off her coat and kicking off her shoes.

Sherlock entered the room, keeping by the door. He stood awkwardly, his hands in his pocket, eyes darting from object to object, avoiding her completeley.

She smirked at his awkwardness before turning to sit on a plush armchair. She crossed her legs, purposefully revealing her pale skin. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"A professor who slept with you?" He muttered in her general direction. "I would have appreciated something a bit more...tasteful."

"Tasteful" She scoffed. "A professor is a figure of authority. Abuse of authority. Very me" She smirked. "It was the first thing that came to mind."

He rolled his eyes and walked to the couch that stood oppoiste her chair. He stifly sat down, coat, gloves, and scarf still cradling his lean form.

"Inspiration from past events?" He asked, the words dripping with acid.

"Replace University with high school" She murmured with a smirk, ignoring his tone. "I'll never forget Mr. Jones" She said, faking wistfulness. "I never went to University. My career isn't exactly academic."

He frowned slightly. Her intelligence and wit if not taught must have been inherited or accumulated.. Still, it was uncommon to meet someone so clever and cultured having had no higher form of education.

"I don't believe Oxford offers that major." He replied, taking his gloves off slowly, avoiding her gaze.

She looked at him intently. He was purposefully avoiding eye-contact. She shifted in her seat slightly, hoping to draw his attention. She drummed her fingers on her bare leg. "Not that I could learn much more if they did." She murmured softly with a glint in her eyes.

He ignored her comment, refusing to give her any form of satisfaction or attention to such topics. "So, Miss Adler, what brings you back to London?"

"To beg for yours and your brothers forgiveness, obviously." She said with an innocent smile before a mischievous grin spread across her face. "I can't even say that with a straight face. No, I had some... business to attend to." She said vaguely.

He sneered at her jest. "I see."

"Is Mycroft aware that you are alive?" She asked. "No, obviously not. Otherwise you wouldn't be so stuck for funds" She smirked.

"Good deduction." He said sarcasticly. "No, he thinks me dead, as do most of those I once knew."

"Except me. Does that make me special?" She said, jokingly.

He gave her a sardonic smile, "You're not alone."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes widening a little but a smile still on her face. "Who else knows? Should I be jealous?"

"Molly. Molly Hooper, she works at the morgue at St. Bart's." He said matter-of-factly, again, ignoring her comments of affection.

"Oh yes, I know Miss Hooper _very _well." She murmured mysteriously. "But whether or not I should be jealous is a whole different matter. She has quite the crush on you if I remember correctly."

He cocked his head, furrowing his brows at her implication. "Yes, she does, as I discovered last Christmas." He frowned at the memory-he had been beastly to her. "But I wasn't aware that you were an aquaintince of hers? Ah, of course, she must have helped you as well." The pieces coming together.

"How else would I get a replicant dead body. DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep." She reminded him. "She had an interesting request as a thank you. Now that was a fun day." She winked, trying to make him feel uncomfotable.

"Molly?!" he scoffed, uable to believe her words.

"One of my more frequent clients. Still have the pleasure of her company from time to time" She smirked, his expression was fantastic.

His eyes widened, slightly. Her words like a slap in the face, such was the shock. "I-I see." He stuttered. "Well, I'm glad she's...discovering herself."

"She certainly should have discovered herself by now. She's very...adventurous. The quiet ones usually are." she murmured, tilting her head to the side with a small smile.

He looked away, the continuing subject making him more and more uncomfortable. He didn't want to think of those things. Especially Molly doing those things. With_ her_.

He cleared his throat, "H-how did you hear of my death?"

She smirked at him. "Well I heard of Moriartys death so yours was obviously a given. Very theatrical I must say. Much more so than mine."

He nodded, "I see." The memory of her betrayal still stinging him some.

She thought for a moment before leaning forward slightly, changing the subject and catching him off guard. "So, Mr. Holmes. It's a cold winters night and we have a hotel room to ourselves. Let's have dinner." She purred, a glint in her eyes.

He eyed her, eyes squinting mildly as irritation infalted his chest. "I believe you know my ususal answer to that statement." He said lowly.

She reached out a hand and slowly and lightly traced a pattern on his knee. "Hmm, yes. 'You're not hungry.' Well, neither am I."

His eyes darted to his assulted knee, before darting back to meet her eyes. The irritaition was growing, and his patience was being tested.

"Don't." He growled.

She leant further forward, halfway out of her seat. "Why not?" She murmured softly. Trailing her fingers a little higher up his leg.

He wrinkled his nose quickly-his temper flaring. "You know very well why not." He spat.

"Death has done nothing to help your temper, Mr. Holmes." she trailed her fingers a little higher before removing her hand and leaning back. Recrossing her legs.

He lifted his chin, this conversation needed to be removed from the table. "Dinner is not a meal I partake in. A useless waste of time."

"I see. Well I won't waste my time then." She claimed indifference, making herself seem slightly cold however, she was unable to keep the glint from her eyes. She saw his words as a challenge.

Sherlocks stomach grumbled. "Some food, however, might be needed." He stated, glancing down.

"She smirked "So, actual dinner then?"

"Yes." He replied lowly. "Preference?"

"Are we eating in or out?" She asked, feigning enthusiasm. At least, she told herself she was feigning it.

"I'm indifferent." He answered, shifting in his seat.

"How good are you at keeping a low profile?" She murmured.

He narrowed his eyes in offense. "It's my job." he replied sharply.

"Good." She smiled a slow smile. "Out it is. My treat, obviously. I doubt you could afford where I have in mind." Her eyes glinted in a mocking fashion. "Is there any chance you have a tuxedo?"

"Not on hand." He answered, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Hmm..." She mused, standing up. "You'll have to rent one. Use my card. Black tie is not optional. It's a necessity."

He stood up grabbing his gloves as he did so. "Obviously. Is there a shop nearby?"

"Yes, about two blocks away." She reached into her bra and pulled out a credit card which she passed to him. "Use this." She smirked.

"Thanks." He said, taking the card. "I'll be back soon-mobile number?" He turned back towards her.

She walked right up to him and without saying a word, slipped her hand into his trouser pocket, pulled out his phone and input her mobile number. She then slipped it back into his pocket. "There." She said with a wink.

He froze. Her hand brushing against an alarming area of his body. He clenched his jaw. "Thanks." he uttered, tearing away from her, and heading out the door.

Irene smirked to herself as she watched him leave. That had certainly gotten his attention. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and typed a message. "You'll never guess who I have in my clutches. Mr Sherlock Holmes. If you want him, come and get him. You know what the price is. Hurry and reply before I change my mind. -IA" Her thumb hovered for a moment before she pressed send. Her face cold and emotionless.


	2. Amuse Bouche

CHAPTER TWO: Amuse Bouche

Sherlock, having retrieved the tux from the nearby shop, headed back to the hotel. His mind was racing, his feelings in disarray. _She_ was back. He never thought he'd see her again and the shock of actually doing so was almost too much to bare. He swallowed whatever ambiguous feelings were rising-_not _that he had any-donning his safe, indifferent persona before knocking at her room door.

Irene had been planning everything since Sherlocks departure. She hadn't yet had a response to her text but she knew that it wouldn't be long until she did. No one could resist her offer. Especially not _him. _She was applying her makeup-less than usual, she wanted her natural beauty to show- when a knock on the door broke her out of her reverie. She pulled out her phone and texted Sherlock. "If it's you then the door is open. -IA"

Sherlock checked his phone, gave an annoyed grimace and entered the room slowly. "Back." He muttered, under his breath.

Irene smiled when she heard him enter. "Change into your tux. Don't worry I promise not to peek." She called from the bathroom smirking to herself.

He ignored her remark and walked to a corner of the room. He stripped his clothes off in a technical fashion before slipping into the tux. He was surprised at how well it fit. He was a tall, lean man and this tux did his figure justice, not that he cared. He did his bow tie before grabbing some gel he had picked up at the drugstore. He ran coin-sized amount through his raven locks, parted it to the side and slicked it back. He checked his reflection in the bedroom mirror: satisfactory.

She finished her makeup with a flick of her mascara wand. She checked her reflection, turning to the side slightly. She did look great, even if she did say so herself, her glittering dress dipping low at the front and the back. She would definitely distract a lot of people, but would it be good enough for Sherlock Holmes? "Are you decent?" She called through the door.

"Quite." He responded, bored. He adjusted his cuff links, as he gazed out the window, admiring the London skyline.

She slipped her phone into her dress before opening the door swiftly. She paused in the doorway for a moment, seeing Sherlock. He looked... sexy.

He turned around to face her, still fiddling with his cuff links. Upon seeing her he started-she looked...ravishing, for lack of a better term. He eyed her up and down, his face stoic once more. "Ready?"

It took every ounce of self control Irene had for her not to jump Sherlock in that moment. She told herself that she was just a sucker for a man in a tux, to a certain extent it was true. She echoed his facial mask and nodded. "I am, are you?" She kept her voice formal.

"I believe so." He replied, checking himself in the mirror again. "Where are we to dine?"

Irene nodded, putting her shoes back on. "A small French bistro, very exclusive. Waiting list is usually a few months, however, I know the owner. Well, I know what he likes." She smirked, straightening up.

"I see." He said coldly. "And our alias?"

"Well, I have already booked a table under the name Adler." She said with a smirk. "I have no need to hide there. You, however, are Eugene Miller." She smirked.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hardly a fitting name." He muttered.

"It's no Sherlock Holmes, I'll give you that." She winked. "However, it is acceptable, Mr. Miller."

Sherlock gave her a glare before reluctantly offering her his arm. "Fine." He said, lowly. He lead them them out the room and down the hall to the lift. He was surprised by all the looks they were recieving as they walked through the lobby. He ignored them, however, and continued to lead her out the door. He hailed a cab, opening the door for her before following suit.

She observed the looks that they got with a smile, they really must look like a stunning couple. She gracefully climbed into the cab and sat down, crossing her legs. She was careful not to crinkle her dress.

He kept his gazed fixed out of the window, studying the scenery and people that they passed by. He stole a glance at her, before returing it to the window.

She kept her own gaze fixed out her window, planning. She still hadn't gotten a reply and this worried her a little. Would _he _be interested? Of course he would. She almost forgot her surroundings, almost forgot about Sherlock, her mind in a different place, cold and calculating.

They arrived at their destination. He got out first, opening the door for her to follow. He offered her his elbow again, leading them inside.

The sudden stopping of the cab knocked her out of her reverie and she snapped back to the task at hand, with a smile she took Sherlock's elbow and let herself be led inside. As they entered the restaurant her smile widened, it was a very glamorous place. She spotted the owner immediately and waved.

A middle-aged man, of average height and build crossed towards them. "Ah! Miss Adler!" He said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "It's been ages! How have you been?" He asked, a wink in his eye.

"It's been too long Mr. Gauthier. You should make another appointment." She winked back at him. "I've been...well. Life's been interesting. I see you are prospering well." She gestured to the restaurant.

"Yes, business has been quite good." He gave her a knowing smile before turning to the man at her side. "And this is?"

Irene glanced at Sherlock with a mischevious smile. "This is Eugene Miller, new client." She leaned forward slightly. "He's a bit nervous, never done anything like this before, so I'm taking him to dinner first. Help him ease up a bit. Bless him" She winked at Sherlock. "Still, I'm sure you must remember how nerve-wracking the first time is."

The man nodded and smiled. "Indeed, I do."

Sherlock meanwhile did his best to control the anger that was rising. _'A client?!' _He thought to himself, 'How ridiculous!' She certainly was having her fun. He repressed his irritation, and smiled at her weakly. "Shall we?" He asked, stifly.

She couldn't help but smirk at his expression. The anger in his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Miller." She turned back towards the owner. "Could we be shown to our table please?" She smiled sweetly.

"Of course." The owner answered, leading them to a private table in the back. "Here you are."

Sherlock gestured for Irene to sit first, pushing in her chair, before being seated himself. He glanced around the room, eyes dartling from customer to customer, deducing their life stories as he went.

Irene grabbed a menu and had a quick look at it before putting it down. She drummed her fingers on the table, absent-mindedly, her chin resting in one hand.

Sherlock glanced at her briefly before grabbing his own menu. He scanned the options quickly, food never being an thing that appealed to him.

He cleared his throat. "So, I'm a new client?" He asked, disgust married to his tone.

Her eyes turned to him, a smirk spreading over her lips. "Easiest explanation. 'He's a consulting detective whom I've got history with-that's pretty messed up-and neither of us ever really know where we stand. Besides, it has been a while since we last spoke, which, happened to be when he was saving me from being beheaded...' Seems a little too long as an introduction, don't you think?"

He twitched his nose in irritation. "Fine." He said, under his breath, taking refuge in the menu.

She coughed, disguising a laugh, before leaning forward and pulling his menu down. She rubbed her leg against his. "Does it make you uncomfortable having him think that I dominate you?" She purred.

He jerked his leg away from hers. "No." He spat back. "For if you remember what you said to him, Miss Adler, you'll recall that you have yet to perform your...services."

"Fine, let me amend my statement." She leaned in even further, brushing her leg against his again, whispering, "Does it make you uncomfortable having him think that you _want_ me to dominate you?" A glint shone in her eyes.

Sherlock's jaw tensed. He did his best to ignore her leg against his, and leaned back as far as he could in his seat. "Why would that make me uncomfortable?" He retorted.

"Because it's to do with sex." She smirked, not leaning away nor removing her leg.

His nostrils flared. He looked down, studying the menu once more. That was _enough._ "What are you having?"

She leant back with a grin. "The salmon. Yourself?" Her leg was still plastered to his, forcing her to wonder if he would say anything.

Sherlock shifted in his seat, doing his best to seperate his leg from hers-without much succsess to his chagrin. "I'll have the same."

She nodded, rubbing her leg against his slightly with a smile. "Good." She took the menu from his hands and put it to the side.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Yes?" He asked, roughly.

"Yes?" She said simply, motioning for a waiter. "What do you want to drink?"

"I don't drink." He answered, removing his eyes from hers.

"Pick a non-alcoholic one then." She rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine with water." He replied, lowly.

She turned towards the waiter with a ready smile. Watching his eyes rake over her exposed skin, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "One water, one scotch and two orders of the salmon. Thank you." She winked.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Always a display with her. He eyed her before asking, "So, why are you really here, Miss Adler?"

"In this restaurant or in London?" She turned back to face him.

"London." He spat.

She rolled her eyes at his expression. "I told you, I had business to attend to."

"With whom?" He asked, his eyes studying her behaviour.

Irene waved her arm vaguely. "People."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Care to be specific?"

"No." She murmured before leaning in close again. "Why all the questions?" She asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Because, Miss Adler," he hissed, "I find it hard to trust you after your last interactions with me. Hence, the questions."

She leaned in even closer, breathing into his ear. "Where's the fun in trusting someone?"

He glared at her, his eyes searching hers. "It's not supposed to be 'fun.'

She kept her gaze steady, revealing nothing, before reaching out a hand to lightly trace his cheekbone with her fingertips. "Are you not having fun, Mr. Holmes?"

He swallowed at her touch. His cheek on fire from the contact. He glanced down at her hand from his peripheral vision, before returning to her stare. "I'm having a blast." He replied, sarcasm dripping off of his words.

"Hmm..." She murmured before leaning forward even further so that their noses were almost touching. "I'll have to try harder then."

He reached his hand across the table to grab her wrist, turning it over to give his fingertips full access. He counted her pulse. Highly elevated. He studied her eyes. Pupils definitely dilated. And her breath, from what he could tell, certainly seemed hitched.

"I rather think you're enjoying yourself just fine, Miss Adler." He answered huskily.

She appeared to be unfazed by his words as her eyes darted from his eyes, to his lips and then back up to his eyes. "Yes, but are you?" She purred. He thought that these simple reactions somehow betrayed her feelings. _He's wrong_. She thought to herself. Yes, he was an attractive man. That's all it was. Attraction.

"Unlike some, I don't wear my heart on my wrist." He replied icily, looking between her lips and her eyes.

"Wait, you have a heart?" She murmured with a small smirk, she could feel his breath on her lips.

"Slip of the tongue." He answered lowly, "I think we both know the answer to _that _question."

Irene smirked slightly. "Sorry, you lost my attention after 'slip of the tongue.'"

He narrowed his eyes. "Careful, Miss Adler, you'e being awfully predicatable."

"Hmm... I'll have to do something about that." She leaned in and briefly pressed her lips to his before leaning back slightly, trying to read his expression. She knew he would read more into the brief kiss than she had meant.

Sherlock's frame tensed as he felt her lips connect with his. They were soft and moist. His shock arresting him for a moment. Sherlock stared at her blankly. He stuttered for a moment.

She looked into his eyes, enjoying the expression on his face. Her eyes flicked down to his lips again.

He returned her gaze, his eyes biting and dark. His eyes darted to her lips again, and back to her eyes. He breathed heavily.

Suddenly, Irene's phone beeped. She leaned back, startled, snapping out of what felt like a trance. She picked up her phone to find the reply she had been hoping for. She read through it. "How the hell have you managed that? Never mind, it's irrelevant. You want protection, right?-SM"

"Excuse me." She murmured, avoiding eye contact with him as she got up and walked into the Ladies Restroom.

Sherlocked nodded quickly, glancing around. He leaned back in a state of what he hoped was only mild shock. He furrowed his brow. The feeling of her lips on his still lingered on his nerves. He licked his lips, wanting to remove all evidence of her residency on them. He was at a loss for words-for once. What had just taken place was extremely infuriating and inappropriate. He was beyond annoyed-_yet_-he flexed his jaw at the word. No. There was no 'yet,' or 'but' in this equation, he told himself, swallowing the word along with the feelings that had arisen with it.

Irene stumbled into the bathroom, still slightly dazed. Luckily there was no one in the restroom. She took a moment to bite back any feelings-forms of arousal-she corrected herself. Sex she could deal with, emotions-definitely not. After a moment of thought she pulled out her phone and sent a message. "Of course. I would like to come out of hiding. Business is too slow. What can you offer me? And, please, reply quickly. -IA"

Sherlock scanned the room again, willing his mind to return to its normal, logical state. He eyed the waiter: lipstick smudge on collar, matching the redhead's serving table 3-obviously sleeping with each other; stealing silverware-clearly suffering from serious finacial issues-probably from student loans given his age; jittery hands and consistently sniffing his nose-cocaine addict itching for a bump, three hours since his last hit. "Amateur." Sherlock thought with a wry chuckle.

She looked at her phone, hearing it buzz. "We can offer you your usual form of protection plus a personal hit if anyone bothers you? No need to reply, we know you'll say yes. Stay with Sherlock Holmes. Make him want you. We'll discuss an exchange shortly, Miss Adler. SM" Irene grinned to herself before putting her phone away. She stalked out of the restroom, her mind focussed. She sat back down. "Sorry about that, Mr. Miller. I was booking an appointment."

Sherlock shifted in his seat, avoiding her eyes. "It's fine." He muttered.

Before Irene could say anything, their waiter came with their food and their drinks. She barely paid him any attention this time other than murmuring a quiet "Thanks." She took a sip of her scotch.

He took a drink of his water, glaring at her from above the glass. "So, you have a new client?" He asked with disinterest.

She kept her eyes on her food and started eating. "Mhm, no one of interest though." She hoped that her vague and distant attitude would annoy him. She was more likely to get a response out of him if he was annoyed. He let his guard down when annoyed.

He pecked at his food, unsatisfied with her ambiguous answer. She was up to something. "Someone in Parliment?" He pushed.

"No. I told you, no one of interest." She sighed, popping some salmon in her mouth and chewing it slowly. She drummed the fingers of her left hand on the table, bored.

He glared at her hand, the noise growing increasingly aggrivating. "If they are no one of interest" he began matter-of-factly, "Why not just tell me?!"

"Because I keep good client confidentiality, Mr. Miller." She glanced up at him, an obvious expression on her face.

He clenched his jaw as his frustration with her vaugueness began to climax before slamming his fork and knife down. "Tell me who it is!" He hissed.

She looked up at him, a little startled. A slow smile spread over her lips. "Why do you care so much, Mr. Miller?" She murmured softly.

"I don't _care_, I'm _curious_!" He spat back lowly, emphasizing the latter word.

"Ah, but if you didn't care, you wouldn't be curious" She pointed out with a smirk.

He inhaled slowly, willing himself to calm down so he wouldn't make a scene. She was growing more insufferable by the second. Especially with comments such as that.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Adler. It's highly unbecoming." He growled.

She raised an eyebrow at his words. And put her fork down. "Mr. Miller, if I was flattering myself I would have said that you cared about me-_not_ my clients." She fixed him with a steely gaze. Challenging him.

"I rathe-" He was about to retort her statement with a biting remark when the waiter intervened, "Are you finished?" He questioned, glancing between the two.

"Yes, I rather think we are." She turned to the waiter, giving him a warm smile. "We'll take the bill as well."

"Right away." The waiter replied before walking away.

"Give me your card." He snapped.

She frowned at him. "I'm perfectly capable of using it myself." She said, dryly.

"I'd rather not be humiliated any more by having you pay for our meals at a restaurant of this calibre, Give me your card. Please." He responded, heatedly.

She reached a hand into her bra and pulled out a different card than she had given him before, hesitating for a moment. She bit her lip in moral dilemna. "But you don't know the pin. And the bank told me never to tell anyone."

He sighed, "Just tell me it. You can void it in the morning."

She sighed and passed him the card, it was still warm. "Fine. 8754." She murmured lowly.

"How dull." He said, raising his eyebrows, throwing his signature 'mocking' face at her.

"Someone once told me that if I had picked a random number, I would have walked out of here with everything I had worked for." She looked at him pointedly. "Just stop complaining and pay already." She knew her usual tricks would not work on Sherlock Holmes, so she was forced to make it up as she went along.

He hailed the waiter for the check, waited for him to return and handed him the card. He looked around the room, ignoring the woman across from him. The waiter returned and Sherlock punched in the pin. He looked at Irene when all was set.

"Shall we?" He asked rigidly.

She nodded to him and got up out of her seat. She straightened her dress and waited for Sherlock to start to leave.

He reluctantly offered her his elbow and lead them out and onto the street. He looked around before turning back to her. "Where to now?" He asked awkwardly.

"Well, you are staying in my hotel room." She smirked. "Don't worry though. I won't jump you or anything."

She shivered slightly in the night air, regretting not bringing a coat.

He noticed her expose skin and and sighed to himself before quickly taking of his tuxedo blazer and drapping it over her shoulders. "Here." He muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Irene looked up at him in amazement. The simple gesture struck her to her core, cutting through her cold, indifferent, calculating mind. She pulled the jacket closer around her, it smelt like him.

"Thank... Thank you." She murmured before looking away again, shaking her head slightly.

Sherlock glanced down at her before raising his hand to call a cab. He opened the door for her allowing her to climb inside before following after.

"The Ritz-Carlton, please."


	3. Appetiser

Chapter 3:

After a silent drive back to their hotel, they climbed out of the cab. She didn't look at him as they walked into the lobby and up the stairs at a rather quick pace. She wasn't in the mood for a silent lift. When they reached their room, Irene opened the door and passed Sherlock his jacket again before sitting down in the armchair.  
Sherlock took the coat from her and laid it over the back of a chair. He sat down on the couch and undid his cuff links, glancing any where but in her general direction.  
She watched him, growing tired of the silence quickly. She leaned forward and gazed into his eyes.  
"So, did you enjoy dinner?" She murmured with a smirk.  
"It was fine." He said quietly.  
She raised an eyebrow " 'Fine?' "  
"Yes. Fine." He repeated, looking away in annoyance.  
She rolled her eyes at his tone. If she was going to keep him here, possibly for days. She would have to try harder. She crossed her legs, revealing almost all of the pale skin of one leg.  
"Why only fine?"  
He glanced out of the corner of his eye, annoyed.  
"Think. 'It's the new sexy.'" He mocked.  
She smirked slightly. "Is it because I kissed you?" Her eyes danced a little.  
He quirked his eyebrow, "Well done."  
She rolled her eyes. "It was barely a kiss, it could have been a lot worse... or better. Depending on your perspective."  
"It was unwanted, nevertheless." He said icily.  
"You didn't seem to mind." She pointed out with a wink.  
He looked at her in confusion. "I don't know what you're referring to."  
"Of course you don't." She murmured before standing up and slowly walking to sit next to him, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa and her cheek rested on her hand. She watched his face, before reaching over to slowly straighten his bow tie, their faces, an inch away from each other, causing their breath to mingle.  
"There, it was annoying me." She murmured, gazing into his eyes.  
He swallowed at her close proximity.  
"Thanks." He muttered, under his breath, his eyes lost in hers. He could feel the warmth of her voice on his lips and the light pressure of her delicate hand on his neck. His eyes darted to her lips.  
Irene was almost completely lost in the moment. She could feel the heat from his skin, the feather light touch of his breath on her mouth. She leaned in slightly, their noses brushing, almost as if she was going to kiss him again. However, she managed to stop herself from doing so.  
"You're welcome." She breathed, almost silently.  
Sherlock shifted in his seat, moving away from her as best he could. He cleared his throat and looked around.  
Irene blinked and leant back into her original seating permission acting as though nothing had happened.  
"I think it's sweet that you came back here to watch John. You obviously care a great deal about him, not many people would go to such lengths to ensure the safety of theirboyfriend... Sorry. _Flatmate_." She murmured with a smirk.  
Sherlock growled lowly, "We're. Not. A. Couple!"  
She smiled. "Yes you are." However, upon seeing the expression on Sherlock's face, she relented a little.  
"Alright, calm down. I'm not implying a sexual attachment." She thought for a moment. "Yet, anyway. But you two have one of those..." She wrinkled her nose a little. "Emotional connections. Like a couple."  
"I wouldn't know." He muttered.  
"Yes you do. If I-having never been in the same situation, myself-can see it, then you certainly can. Even if you don't recognise it for what it is." She shrugged slightly.  
"I disagree, Miss Adler." He responded, lifting his head slightly.  
She raised an eyebrow and leaned forward once again, keeping slightly more distance between their faces this time.  
"Come now, there must be a heart hiding behind that cold exterior of yours." She murmured, placing a hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat under her fingers, confirming her statement. It seemed to quicken at her touch. She quirked an eyebrow, unsure whether she had imagined it or not. Perhaps it was only her own pulse in her fingertips.  
His eyes darted to her hand then back to her eyes. He gave a look of warning, before placing his hand over hers, letting it sit there for a moment. Her skin was warm and smooth. He slowly pulled her hand away, placing it on her thigh. His hand lingered longer than he would have liked.  
Her breath hitched slightly in her throat and she glanced down at his hand on her thigh. She decided to push things a little further. She stood up and put one leg either side of Sherlock's and sat down. Straddling him.  
"Well, Mr Holmes. We've established that you have a heart... what else do you have?" She glanced down at his groin before looking back at his face, a wink in her eye.  
Sherlock shrank back into his seat as she straddled his lap, retreating in horror and anxiety. "Wh-what are you doing?!" He stammered, teeth clenched.  
"Hmm." She mused. "Call it an experiment." She smirked.  
His brow furrowed in confusion and discomfort. "Get. Off." He hissed, holding his hands up, away from her body.  
"I'm not exactly sure I want to. In fact, I'm certain I don't." She wriggled slightly, making herself comfortable.  
His nose wrinkled. "Miss Adler," he growled, "I said, _get off_."  
"Are you offering?" She said with a wink. "I mean we do have a hotel room to ourselves and it is getting rather late." She put her arms up in a mock stretch, the material of her dress straining over her chest.  
"I don't know what you mean." He replied. Her chest was dangerously close to his face-and due to her movements, it was bulging rather obviously. He swallowed, forcing his eyes upwards.  
"I was being indelicate." She murmured leaning forward, forcing him to look in her eyes.  
"I'd be delicate but we did just have dinner." She continued.  
"What are you talking about?." He choked out, hands still up, his eyes darting about the room, looking anywhere but at her.  
Irene relished his obvious awkwardness. She slowly gripped his chin between her fingers, forcing him to meet her gaze.  
"Mr. Holmes, you asked me to _get off. _Even you must see the obvious double entendre." She breathed.  
He narrowed his eyes, slowly understanding her meaning. "You know what I meant." He replied lowly.  
"Hmmm... Do I? I'm not so sure I do." She purred.  
He flexed his jaw. "Miss Adler..." He warned, through gritted teeth.  
"Besides, this is my experiment. You especially must understand the importance of an experiment." A small smirk spread across her face as an idea popped into her mind. She slowly began to roll her hips into his as she maintained eye contact.  
He felt her pelvis make contact with his own, her arse grinding into his groin. His face contorted in disgust and outrage. He stood up swiftly causing her to slide off of him, leaving them chest to chest in a standoff.  
She looked up at him, her eyes dark. Not moving away from him..  
"I'm sorry, was I making you feel uncomfortable?" She murmured.  
Sherlock tensed his muscles, willing himself to regain control. "I don't appreciate such cheap, predictable actions." He hissed.  
She was speechless for a moment, his words resonating through her. Cheap. She was _not_ cheap. She would not let him have the satisfaction of knowing that he had affected her with his words. She narrowed her eyes at him.  
"Wow. Sex really does alarm you doesn't it?" She half spat before stepping away from him. "I'm going for a shower. Do what you want." She stalked into the bathroom and resisted the urge to slam the door.  
He stepped aside allowing her to pass before crossing to lean against the window. He closed his eyes, face tense. He breathed slowly. He had had enough of her games and antics. She was testing him, in some way. But _why?_  
Irene leaned against the door for a moment, closing her eyes. Why did he not react like all other men? If he did then it would be so much easier. She sighed. Her usual games certainly were not going to work. She would have to make him think she had given up, that she was no longer playing 'the game.' Her face twisted up into a cold smile. She had to make him think that she had _feelings_ for him. Emotional ones. Catch him off guard. Make him think she was vulnerable. She stepped out of her dress and turned the shower on before stepping in.  
Sherlock undid his bowtie tossing it casually on the bed. He undid a few buttons and looked out the window. He silently cursed himself for agreeing to stay with her. He should have fled the moment he heard her voice.  
She didn't stay in the shower as long as she would have liked. She enjoyed having the cool water run over her. It calmed her down. She wanted to get this all over and done with. Sherlock Holmes was an anomaly and the sooner he was out of her life...the better. She tried to convince herself. However, she knew that on some level-she wasn't sure which-life would certainly be more dull when he was gone. She shut off the water and stepped out. She quickly dried herself before putting on her green nightgown and stepping out of the bathroom. Avoiding eye contact with Sherlock.  
He remained fixed in his spot, his stare focussed out the window, as he heard her re-enter the room. He closed his eyes again wishing himself away, far away from her.  
Irene closed her eyes for a moment, blocking everything out. Her plan forming in her head. From what she'd gained from past experience, he was more likely to 'help' her when she was vulnerable. The first time with the email and the second time when she was about to be killed. She let her usual mask slip and put a new one in place, one that made her seem vulnerable. She kept her eyes closed.  
"You can leave if you want" She murmured in a low voice. "I'll pay for another room for you, if it's what you wish." Her voice sounded perfect, not her usual confident tone. She had never given him an option before.  
He turned around to face her, his eyes sweeping over her voluptuous form. The nightgown was plunging and her skin looked cool, like marble. He drank her in, for only a moment, before regaining control.  
"If that's what you'd like." He answered dully.  
She glanced up at him. "I don't mind. I have the funds if you wish to have your own space." She bit her lip, looking away as if she wanted to say more. She could play the damsel in distress perfectly.  
"It's up to you." He muttered, glancing down.  
Her brow furrowed slightly. "Sherlock. I'm giving you a choice. Choose." She murmured.  
He sighed and glanced up at her, a little shocked. She had called him Sherlock. Not Mr. Holmes. He was conflicted. He should want to take her offer. It didn't make any sense. He couldn't understand why he wanted to stay.  
"I'm fine here." He answered, trying to sound indifferent.  
Irene glanced back up at him, she would have smirked if she wasn't trying to fool him.  
"Oh. Well, if you're sure." She looked down again as if in thought.  
Sherlock cocked his head as he scanned her behaviour. She was acting differently. Softer, somehow, or more fragile. This was the Irene Adler he had seen all those months ago.  
He took a step towards her, surprising himself.  
"Why?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
She shook her head slightly, focussing on the present again. She looked up at him, noting his movement .  
"Why, what?" She asked, confusion in her eyes.  
"Why did you offer?" He repeated lowly.  
"Despite what you think of me, Mr Holmes. I do not keep people against their will."  
She paused, trying to think of the words.  
"I don't want you to feel like...like you _have_ to stay here."  
He furrowed his brows, her words disarming him. He was unsure how to respond to such consideration.  
"I don't." He replied quietly.  
She narrowed her eyes at his response, but saw it as an opening. She slowly walked up to stand in front of him, placing a hand on his wrist. He would think she was merely repeating what she had done by the fireplace, but in reality, she was checking his pulse. Elevated. She gazed into his eyes, she couldn't tell in this light if they were dilated or not. However, she was taken by surprise and her fake emotional mask slipped a little, showing her confusion. She was confused by his reaction but also by herself. She hated this man. She had told herself that every day since her 'death.' Her life would have been better if she had never met Sherlock Holmes. The great detective in the funny hat. Again, she hated him she told herself. So then, why on earth did it matter to her so much that his pulse was elevated? Was it just because it would make her plan easier or was there something...more?  
He glared at her, turning his hand around to feel her wrist as well. He counted mentally. It was definitely raised. He studied her pupils, they grew as he did so. He smirked knowingly. He leaned around her face as he had done that fateful night to whisper in her ear,  
"Why are you _really_ back in London, Miss Adler?"  
With those words, Irene snapped back to her plans. It was now or never. Her mask came back up, however, her eyes hardened a little. Yes, she hated this man. She bit down on her lip slightly and closed her eyes.  
"It's better that you don't know." She murmured quietly.  
"I'm going to have to disagree." He countered, his voice like velvet on steel.  
"Fine." She kept her eyes closed. "It's _safer_ if you don't know."  
"'Safe' is boring." He spat, his mouth hovering by her ear.  
She opened her eyes, her own searching his. "Fine, if you insist." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to die. Soon." She murmured simply.


	4. First Course

CHAPTER 4

Sherlock's breath hitched. His mind was reeling. If this was a joke, need he remind her that it was an old one?! Still, she looked serious, and frightened.  
"W-what do you mean?" He stuttered.  
A thrill went through Irene, she told herself that it was just because it would make her plan so much easier, _not _that she liked the fact that he cared. She gulped and looked away from his eyes.  
"I mean, someone is going to kill me. And he can't be stopped. I've been running. Running for too long." Her voice sounded shaky, she should get an Oscar for this, or at least consider a career in acting.  
"Who?" He asked, concern flooding through his voice.  
"Sebastian Moran." She winced at the name. "He was Moriarty's right hand man, used to be in the army. Dishonourable discharge. He was also Moriarty's best sniper."  
"And why does he want you dead?" He questioned.  
She looked back up at him. "Why does anyone want me dead? I had something of theirs, something they wanted back. Unfortunately, everything I had was given to Mycroft in the form of my camera phone." It took a lot of effort to keep the bitterness from her voice as she lied fluidly. "Now he is rather...annoyed at me." She murmured, reading his expression.  
He furrowed his brows. "And I take it they found out about your...rescue?"  
She nodded. "I'm surprised it took him this long to find me. Moriarty found out a while before his death and tasked Moran with finding me." She lied smoothly.  
"So you've come back to London to retrieve the phone?"  
She shook her head. "I can't get it back. I've already tried that." She exhaled "No, I've come here to say goodbye."  
His eyes narrowed. "I don't believe that you'd surrender your life so easily, Miss Adler. That would be mad."  
Hurt flashed across her face and she stepped away from him, pretending to try and regain composure.  
"Surrender? Don't you think I've tried everything? Don't you think that I have considered every option?" She ran a shaky hand through her hair. "Running was my final option and I'm tired of it. My life isn't what it once was anyway. If I'm going to die, let me die." She murmured.  
He studied her. "I can protect you."  
She glanced up at him, letting shock and hope flick across her face. "Really? Why would you do that?" She narrowed her eyes slightly.  
"Same reason why I saved your life. Respect." He lied.  
"You saved my life out of respect? And you would protect me out of respect?" She mused for a moment. "That's a lot of respect. You're risking your life."  
He ignored her prior comment focusing on the latter, "Risking my life is something I'm quite used to."  
She nodded. "Yes but you're risking your life...for me".  
"I did it once before, I don't see a reason not to do it again." He replied offhandedly.  
"Thank you..." She murmured, looking into his eyes. "However, what makes you think you can protect me from them? You weren't even aware of Moran's existence."  
"If I successfully outwitted and outlived Moriarty I believe I can do the same with this man." He answered confidently, annoyed at her lack of faith in him.  
Irene nodded "On your own head be it, literally."  
"That's a risk I'm willing to take." He answered shortly.  
She refused to let his words have an impact on her. She stepped forward again to stand in front of him.  
"Thank you. I mean it, really." She gazed up into his eyes with a small smile.  
"There's no need to thank me." He replied curtly. "I told you. Respect."  
"Even so." She murmured, "You're still risking your life. So it still deserves a thank you. Just accept it." She smirked a little.  
"You're welcome." He offered lowly.  
Irene was about to say something when her phone buzzed. She stepped away from Sherlock, facing out of the window and read the text.  
"We'll pick up Sherlock Holmes in 48 hours. Keep him occupied until then. Shouldn't be too hard. SM". She smiled briefly before putting her phone away again. "Sorry about that." She turned back to Sherlock with a smile.  
Sherlock glanced at the bed. "I suppose we should arrange our sleeping situation." He murmured.  
"Well. It's a pretty big bed." She motioned to the bed with a smirk. "I promise to stay fully clothed and on my side."  
"The floor is fine." He replied.  
She rolled her eyes. "If you're supposed to be protecting me then it's important that you get a good nights sleep. If it bothers you that much then _I'll_ sleep on the floor."  
"Fine." He relented. "Though I don't need much sleep anyways."  
"Is it fine, you want me on the floor? Or fine, we'll both take the bed?" She smirked.  
"The latter." He answered stiffly.  
"Great." She grinned before turning and half throwing herself onto the bed. Carefully, however, due to wearing her nightdress, which was draped rather precariously. She sat on one side and crossed her legs.  
He sat down opposite her, unbuttoning his shirt more. He whipped his belt off and threw it on the couch.  
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, when you said we should both take the bed. I didn't realise _that_ was what you were proposing." She said with a wink.  
He turned his head to face hers, furrowing his brows, "What?" He asked, confused by her statement.  
She motioned to his unbuttoned shirt and to his beltless trousers. "You're almost stripping off." She said with a smirk.  
He rolled his eyes. "Is that the only thing you think about?" He asked curtly.  
She considered this. "It's the main thing I think about. But to be fair, it is my job so just consider how often the average person focuses on their work." She grinned.  
He shook his head, disregarding her statement.  
"Do you need the bathroom? I want to take a shower." He said, standing up.  
She shook her head. "Go for it. Just don't use the good shower gel." She looked at him with a mock stern expression.  
He ignored her comment, heading to the toilet. He shut the door and sighed. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and then stripped off his pants and boxer briefs. He got in the shower letting the warm water cascade down his body. He washed up, taking his time. Anything to avoid having to be face-to-face with 'The Woman.' He finished up, got out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. He grabbed his clothes and walked out the bathroom door, forgetting she was there.  
She glanced up when he walked back in and froze, any witty remark she had, evaporated at the sight of him, wearing only a towel, hair dripping and steam coming off his body. She gulped, trying to recollect herself.  
He glanced at her wondering what on earth she was looking so wide-eyed about.  
"What?" He sneered.  
She shook her head slightly, snapping back to her right mind. "You used the good shower gel didn't you?" She smirked.  
He avoided her question, crossing to his bag where he retrieved a clean pair of black-boxer briefs and his pyjama bottoms. He headed back to the bathroom and put them on. He ran a towel over his hair before exiting. He crossed to the bed and sat down.  
While Sherlock had gotten changed, Irene had leant backwards, lying down, her head on a pillow. She felt the bed move when he sat on it and she stared at the ceiling, thinking.  
He stole a look at her before arranging himself so that he was sitting against the headboard. He brought his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, fighting the awkwardness in the air. As he shifted his position an item slipped from his pocket. A camera phone. A _very_ specific camera phone. He looked down, having felt it fall out, his eyes widened in horror. He quickly went to grab it, praying she was looking the other way.  
Irene felt the object fall near her head, her hand flew up automatically towards it and her eyes widened in shock as her fingers wrapped around a _very_ familiar object. She sat bolt upright and looked down at the camera phone in her hands. She was speechless.  
His eyes locked on her hand-which was holding the phone. He closed his eyes bracing himself for the onslaught.  
She turned the object around in her fingers. It was definitely hers, she would recognise it anywhere. She tried to unlock it, the passcode was the same, she punched in the oh-so-familiar 4 letters to make 'I am SHERlocked'. However the phone was completely empty, this didn't surprise her. She locked the phone and held onto it, her knuckles going white, her eyes still wide. She glanced up at Sherlock.  
"Why...Why do you have my camera phone?" She murmured, her voice a little shaky. Not by choice this time.  
He opened his eyes slowly, glancing up at her. "I-I kept it.." He stuttered, knowing there was no fooling her.  
"Why?" She asked, confusion colouring her words. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears.  
"A souvenir..." He replied archaically.  
"A souvenir? Of what?" She murmured, still gripping the phone.  
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "Of that case."  
"Do you usually keep souvenirs of your cases?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.  
"Y-yes." He mumbled.  
She narrowed her eyes, "Okay, what are your other souvenirs?"  
"I'm not going to list them for you!" He snapped, his anger and frustration at the situation mounting.  
She rested the camera phone under her chin, an action so familiar to her.  
"Okay. Then tell me this. Why was this particular souvenir _in your pyjamas?_"  
His nostrils flared. He opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but closed it quickly. "M-must have slipped in them..." He mumbled, groaning internally at his shit of an excuse.  
Irene couldn't help the corners of her mouth from pulling up slightly, _sentiment_. It was sentiment that caused Sherlock Holmes to keep her phone. She slowly reached over to his left hand and put the phone in it, curling his fingers around it before letting go and lying back down.  
She closed her eyes. Ignoring her emotions yet again. This was going to be _much_ easier than she had thought.  
He swallowed as she gave him back the phone. A silent understanding between them. He took it back, slipping it inside his pocket once more.  
She kept her eyes closed as she murmured "You know, I'm surprised that Mycroft let you keep that. Thought it would be," She raised her hands to do air quotation marks "'government property'."  
"John got it for me. Or rather let me have it." He answered quietly, looking away.  
She nodded. "I see. Does Mycroft not know you have it?"  
"I'm sure he noticed it missing from your file. He'd have to be blind not to." He replied.  
She nodded again. "Yet, he's let you keep it?"  
"Apparently." He glanced at her.  
She sensed that he would say no more on the topic and so turned to face him and opened her eyes, catching the glance he had given her.  
He searched her eyes momentarily before tearing away. He exhaled before slipping down to a reclined position. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling.  
Her eyes ran over him once. He was still shirtless. She watched his face for a moment before murmuring "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"  
He turned his head, leering at her, "What?!"  
"It's a simple enough question, Mr Holmes. Do I need to repeat it?" She asked with a smirk.  
"Why are you asking me _that_?" His eyes returning back to the ceiling.  
"Because we're going to be stuck together in a hotel room for at least a couple of days and I'd rather we spent it chatting than in total silence. Also I'm interested in the answer." She murmured, trying to read his expression.  
"And what makes you think I'd even answer that question? Besides, you know very well the answer, having kissed me yourself earlier this evening."  
"Exactly, I kissed you. the question was whether or not you had kissed anyone. Also when I say kiss, I don't mean just a brief touching of lips like the one I gave you." She replied, lowly.  
He locked eyes with her before glancing down, deciding to answer honestly, not in the mood to bicker at the moment, "No."  
"Have you ever _wanted_ to kiss anyone?" She pressed, surprised by his honesty.  
"Why would I ever feel such a base desire?" He spat.  
"Don't bite my head off." She rolled her eyes. "It was merely a question. A simple no would have sufficed."  
"Then _n-no_." He lied, his voice faltering.  
She narrowed her eyes and studied his face for a moment, trying to read his expression.  
She couldn't tell if he was telling the truth or not, she reached out a hand and lightly trailed her fingers up and down his bare arm. "Really? Never?" She murmured.  
He tensed at her touch, his eyes locking with hers from his peripheral vision.  
"N-no." He swallowed. "What makes you think otherwise?"  
She traced a pattern at the crease of his elbow, smirking when it rose goosebumps. "No reason at all..." She purred.  
He wrinkled his nose, annoyed at her familiarity. "Perhaps it's time you go to sleep." He hissed.  
She sighed. "You're probably right." She pulled her hand away from him. She continued to face him however, putting her hands under her head and closing her eyes. "I am pretty comfortable." She smirked, closing her eyes.  
Sherlock sighed and got in bed, inching as far away from her as he could. He turned to glance at her one last time, his eyes lingering longer than he would have liked. He turned back and sighed. He wrinkled his nose, relenting, before slipping his hand in his pocket and cradling the camera phone, closing his eyes, before drifting off to sleep


	5. Second Course

Chapter 5: Second course.

Sherlock furrowed his brows as his mind reached the edge of consciousness and sleep. He kept his eyes closed as his other senses awoke. Something, or rather someone's head was on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down at the still sleeping Irene. He almost smiled, before grimacing. It took him a moment to realize that his own arms were wrapped around her as well. He tensed awkwardly as he tried to remove them.  
Sensing movement around her, Irene slowly woke up. She opened her eyes, confused for a second before realising that her head was rested on the bare chest of Sherlock Holmes. His arms were wrapped round her. Or rather were. Now they were half on her, half hovering. Her body stiffened. This was going to be awkward.  
He locked eyes with hers, both trying in vain to play their current situation off. "I...S...Sorry." He stuttered. "I'm not used to sleeping with anyone..."  
"It's...It's fine. Neither am I." She muttered. She had had people in her bed obviously, but never when actually sleeping. She was unsure what to do. Half of her wanted to stay where she was, the other half wanting to run like hell.  
He sat up slowly, removing his hands from her form before running them through his hair. He looked around the room, and at the clock. It was only 8:00am. 'Oh, good.' He thought, 'We have the whole day to torture each other.' He glanced at her, she was on her side, head resting on elbow, staring at him oddly.  
"What?" He asked, annoyed.  
'God, he looks good with bed hair,' She thought to herself.  
"Nothing. Nothing at all." She smirked. His awkwardness obvious. A small part of her brain wondered how they had even got into that position in the first place, who initiated it?  
He eyed her, briefly scanning his eyes over her body. Her nightgown was quite low-he admired the smooth alabaster skin between her breasts, yet again he had a sudden urge to trace his finger down it, wanting to feel the bone beneath the woman. He shook his head and came back to his senses, what was he thinking!?  
"Must you wear something so...revealing?" He asked acidly.  
"Why, is it making you feel uncomfortable?" She murmured, sitting up also.  
"You've seen everything already anyway." She pointed out.  
He sneered and looked away. "I'm simply saying its indecent and highly inappropriate given our unromantic involvement. Please, try, in the future to resist showing off your...assets." He stated quickly and matter-of-factly.  
"Assets?" She asked with a smirk. "And just because I am showing you my 'assets' it does not imply some form of romantic involvement, Mr Holmes. If it did, I would be out of a job." She pointed out.  
He narrowed his eyes, finding a loophole, "Yes, Miss Adler, that is correct. However, you know perfectly well you are not in the presence of a client and yet you decide to wear such outfits anyways. I rather think there's something there."  
She rolled her eyes at him. "I don't just show them to clients either. I like to wear revealing outfits. It's more for my benefit than yours. Perhaps I'm trying to convince you to become a client." She winked. "Then again, you certainly could not afford me."  
Sherlock locked eyes with her and leaned forward slightly, "I can assure you, Miss Adler, should I ever find myself in the extremely unlikely and highly unimaginable situation where I would require your services, I could certainly afford you."  
She also leaned forward, causing her nightdress to gape slightly. "Unimaginable?" She purred. "If you had the funds then why did I pay for your room? And your dinner?" She pointed out.  
"Yes, Miss Adler, unimaginable-in the extreme. Like I told you before, everyone thinks I'm dead, I can't exactly keep using my credit cards and personal account, Mycroft would know in an instant." He replied, smartly.  
She raised an eyebrow at him but otherwise ignored his first comment. "Exactly, so you wouldn't be able to afford me. Not now anyway." She smirked.  
He rolled his eyes, and let her win. There was no use in arguing over grammatical and logistical and hypothetical nitpicks.  
Irene suddenly jumped up off the bed. "I need coffee." She murmured. "The coffee here is terrible." She sighed before going to her wardrobe and pulling out a dress. she stepped into the bathroom, put it on and applied some makeup. "I'm going to a small coffee shop nearby, want anything?" She asked, putting her heels on.  
"I'll have a cuppa earl gray." He said stiffly. "Thank you."  
She nodded at him. "I'll be back soon." She opened the bedside table and took out a small pistol which she tucked into her dress with a wink before walking out of the door.  
He nodded. As the door shut he got up and headed to the bathroom, he stripped his pj bottoms off and got in the shower. He washed up and got out. He forgot his change of clothes in the other room. Disregarding a towel he left in the bathroom and crossed to his bag.  
The coffee shop was quiet so it didn't take Irene long to get the drinks and head back to the hotel. She took the elevator up, balancing the she got to their room, unlocking it. "I'm back." She said, walking into the room. She looked up and froze as Sherlock turned around. He was completely naked. "Oh, hello." She said with a smirk.  
Sherlock froze as she entered the room. His eyes locked with hers. He inwardly groaned as he saw her eyes rake down his form. He quickly threw his clothes in front of his crotch. "I...I thought you'd take longer..." He stuttered.  
"There was no queue." She said, a glint in her eyes. "Tea?" She held out the hand that contained his drink. "Careful though, lid slips a bit, might want to use two hands"  
He glared at her. "Would you mind holding it for a minute. My hands are full."  
"Oh, I noticed. However I feel my grasp is slipping. Sweaty palms you see." She smiled sweetly at him. "So I would really appreciate it if you took it off me. Rather not burn myself."  
He closed his eyes, livid and humiliated. He dropped his clothes and reached for the cup. "Thanks." He muttered, fumbling with the cap.  
"No, Mr Holmes. Thank you." She winked, her eyes raking over him as she sipped her coffee.  
Sherlock kept his gaze down as he picked up his clothes and retreated to the bathroom. He shut the door and groaned as he put his clothes on. How was he ever going to live that down? He splashed water on his face, leaning over the sink and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He closed his eyes again, and sighed. He swallowed and put his mask of indifference on once more.  
He re-entered the bedroom.  
"Hows the tea?" She asked with a smirk as she sat down on the bed, sipping her own coffee. Today had turned out better than expected. No more wondering what Sherlock Holmes looked like naked. It was better than she had expected.  
He grabbed his tea and sipped it slowly, leaning against the window, carelessly. "It's fine." He muttered.  
She bit down on her lip to stop herself from laughing. They were making awkward small talk to avoid the 'elephant in the room' "Weathers nice."  
He glanced out of the window. "Yes." He answered, lowly. "So, what's on the agenda for today, Miss Adler?"  
"What would you like to do? You can choose seeing as you're giving up your free time to help me. And considering that all my ideas, you won't approve of." She winked.  
"I really don't care. I'll leave it in your hands. We, are, however, hostage here." He said, glancing around.  
She sighed. "True. I think we should probably scope the place out. Make sure no one is following us or anything." She shrugged.  
He nodded in agreement, sipping his tea again. "A solid idea, Miss Adler."  
"Don't take your mobile with you. They all have EMP's." She put her own mobile on the table, along with her coffee cup  
He pulled his out and did the same. "Well? Care to lead." He asked sarcastically.  
She rolled her eyes. "Come on then." She turned on her heel, out of the door, knowing he'd follow.  
He did as he was told, keeping behind her slightly. "Please, refrain from mentioning...the incident...ever again. I would appreciate your discretion."  
She nodded. "Of course. The way I see it, we're even anyway."  
He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. Where are we going?" He asked, curious.  
"Just looking around." She made herself look nervous and shaky.  
He followed her, scanning the people that walked past them, assessing each. Her fear was visible. In a moment of concern and...senti...concern he grabbed her elbow, pulling her towards him, placing his other hand on the small of her back.  
"Stay close." He said lowly.  
Irene let herself be pulled with a small smile. He believed her nervousness. Her eyes glinted slightly, something he would see as appreciation for his actions. She nodded at him, leading him down corridors. She could smell chlorine.  
Sherlock smelled it too. He frowned, his memories of pools were not happy ones.  
"The pool, Miss Adler, really?" He scoffed.  
They walked into the room with the pool, no one was there as she knew there wouldn't be. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. The pool." She grinned suddenly and pushed him in with a laugh. She had to convince him that this was the 'new her' sensitive under all her cold layers. She giggled like a teenager. Secretly enjoying herself.  
Sherlock was outraged. He bobbed in the water, staring daggers at her. "What the bloody hell was that for?!" He cried.  
She looked at his face and laughed again. A strong, untainted laugh that struck her to the core and made her breathless, she clutched her sides. "It's...called...'fun.'" She gasped between laughs. "Ever heard of it?."  
His nose twitched in anger and loathing. "Is...this...FUN!?" He asked, as he lifted himself up at the edge of the pool, got out, and picked her up, throwing her in.  
She gasped as he threw her into the pool. However an idea hit her, a fun but mean idea. She took a deep breath before she hit the surface and pretended to panic for a second before going still, her body resting on the surface as she held her breath.  
Sherlock's eyes widened in fear. He quickly jumped into the pool, wrapping his arms under hers and lifting her back up and against her chest, luckily he had had training as a lifeguard.  
She inhaled with a laugh and slipped out of his hands, treading water. She splashed him in his shocked face and laughed. "Yes. Yes this is fun." She giggled. Not even faking it anymore.  
Sherlock scrunched his face in fury and annoyance. "That's hardly funny, Miss Adler!" He scolded, stern and serious. He softened, slightly, however, as he watched her laugh. It was the happiest he had ever seen her. He fought a smile himself. He treaded water, bringing a hand up to wipe the dark, curly strands of hair from his face.  
"It was funny and you know it." She splashed him again with a grin. "Just be thankful that I told you to keep your mobile in our room"  
He put his hand up to block the water she had splashed, grimacing as he did so.  
"Would you please stop that! It's highly immature!" He spat.  
Irene swam over so that she was in front of him. "Mr Holmes, we just threw each other into a pool. I'm pretty sure all maturity has gone." She grinned.  
He frowned, realising she was probably right. He eyed her. There was something awfully...exciting about seeing her wet. Her hair clung to her face and her dress was more than see through. He berated himself for looking and caring before quickly glancing around the pool.  
She grinned again as he looked around. "Oh, I forgot to mention. I've rented the pool out." She said as she started to float on her back. "We have it for the day."  
"Why would you do that?" He asked, confused.  
"Like I said, fun. Seeing as we're stuck here, we may as well enjoy ourselves. You weren't up to any of my usual ideas so I had to get creative." She replied with a smile, looking up at the ceiling.  
He narrowed his eyes at her. "And you figured swimming in our clothes would be sufficient?"  
She went back to treading water so she could look at him, she swam a bit closer again. "Well, it's not exactly like we had swimsuits. If it bothers you that much then we can always take them off." She smirked.  
He swallowed as she closed their proximity. He could just get out of the pool and return to their room, and be done with this nonsense, yet, a small part of him didn't want to. He somewhat enjoyed seeing her so...carefree...carefree with him. So he stayed, and indulged her. And himself.  
"So, was this a good idea, or a bad one?" She asked, not moving away, silently thankful that she had put waterproof mascara on.  
He rolled his eyes, "I'm not one for water, Miss Adler." He hissed.  
She tilted her head to the side and put her arms around his neck with a grin, using him to support herself. "Yet, you're still here, in the pool. With me." She smiled.  
"I don't really have much of a choice, do I?" He returned, uncomfortable with her physical familiarity.  
"You can get out if you want to, I won't be offended. Much." She murmured.  
"I can't leave you alone." He replied, stiffly.  
She leaned in close to him. "Because of Moran? Or for a completely different reason?" She whispered.  
"The former, of course. I don't know what other reason there would be." He snapped.  
She rolled her eyes at him and swam away from him a little. "Fine. Do what you like, stay or go, or get out of the pool." She shrugged before jumping up a little and then plummeting to the bottom of the pool. She opened her eyes when she went underwater and blinked against the chlorine. She swam over to Sherlock and pulled on one of his legs.  
Sherlock felt a yank on his right leg before he was pulled under. He blinked against the chlorine before grabbing her hand and pulling it off his leg. He pulled them to the surface. She came up directly against him. They were eye to eye and both very wet.  
"Don't do that!" He snapped, though part of him was starting to have fun.  
"Why? Scared you'll enjoy it?" She wrapped her legs around his waist, weighing him down so that they both slipped underwater again.  
Sherlock was forced to grabbed her waist as she brought them under. He struggled to get her off of him, which turned into a wrestling match. They fought underwater before climbing to the surface for air. He gasped, inhaling.  
"Miss Adler..." He warned, yanking her body against him, his hands gripping her pelvis, "Don't test me." He growled, their noses almost touching.  
She gazed into his eyes with a smirk. "Why, what are you going to do?" She murmured back, attaching herself around him completely.  
He gazed at her, his eyes softening. He cupped her jaw with his hand, pulling her head towards his, "Or I might do...this." He whispered huskily, leaning down to kiss her. As she closed her eyes he smirked, and dunked her down, retreating across the pool a small smile dancing on his lips.  
Irene climbed back to the surface, coughing and spluttering. She glared across at him. "Oh, you really shouldn't have done that." She dove down underwater and speedily swam across to him. She pulled at his leg again, this time not letting go. As she pulled him down she attached her lips to his, taking the air from his mouth before shooting up to the surface with a grin.  
He opened his eyes in shock as she pressed her lips to his. Though it was underwater the electricity between them was titanic. He shot up to the surface, wiping his hair from his face. He locked eyes with her. The tension between them was immense.  
She gazed into his eyes, her breathing heavy and her lips tingling from where they had been connected. She told herself that it was just because she was out of breath. Just because she had been underwater. Ignoring every impulse that told her to kiss him again.  
He swallowed down every sentiment he was starting to feel. He arched an eyebrow at her, "You're getting awfully friendly, Miss Adler-careful."  
She blinked, coming back to reality. "That was merely a means to take your supply of oxygen away." She smirked. "Don't confuse it for anything else."  
"Likewise." He retorted, referring to his own trick. He swam to the the edge. His clothes were weighing him down, He took off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, stripping it off as well.  
He swam back to the middle of the pool, flicking his hair as he swam.  
Irene watched him, her eyes glinting a little. She swam past him and to the edge of the pool. She pulled her dress off over her head, well aware of how see through her underwear had become and swam back over to him. "There. Much easier for movement." She murmured.  
Sherlock struggled to keep his eyes on her face. He swallowed again.  
"Well, I must say I never thought I'd find myself in a pool...with you."  
She laughed at his words which caused her to bob up and down a little. "Neither did I. Still, things are always unexpected with you." She said almost fondly.  
He smiled slightly, despite himself. He swam a little closer to her, wanting to be nearer without consciously admitting it.  
"I rather think it's the other way 'round." He said lowly.  
"Well, Mr. Holmes. You should learn not to have expectations when it comes to me." She murmured.  
"Trust me," He said, coming nearer, "I never do."  
She looked into his eyes, their close proximity a little surprising. "Good. I stopped having them about you the moment we met. Bleeding vicar was not the most likely of disguises" She grinned.  
He paused a moment, reflecting.  
"How did you know my face?" He asked.  
"I told you, Mr Holmes. I like detectives." She paused. "I was well aware of you before you had even heard of me."  
"Ah, of course. I'm sure Moriarty gave you enough information for a lifetime." He swam towards the low end, his arms beginning to tire, and the memory of her betrayal stinging him.  
She swam behind him, standing up when she could. "Admittedly, he gave me the name, and a couple of photographs. However, I did some of my own research. I like John's blog. I also like your website. Especially the bit on the different types of tobacco ash." She grinned.  
"A fellow enthusiast?" He asked boredly, standing up.  
She shrugged. "I'm just interested in the way you think. It was a nice surprise to see myself on John's blog, even if it was just a brief post. Official secrets and all that." She waved a hand vaguely.  
"I see." He said. "And don't be too flattered by John's post, it was his nod to you, not mine."  
"I assumed. There was no mention of me on your website." She pouted. "Easily disregarded, was I?" She smirked.  
"Stop being coy." He snapped, "You know that's not true..." He faltered, realising how much he had just re-confessed. "Beating you was one of my sweeter victories, to forget you would be to forget my brilliance, and I'd never want to do that."  
She narrowed her eyes at him. "One thing I have never been described as is coy." She murmured. She walked up the pool a little so that she was barely in the water and sat down.  
He watched her cross the pool, his eyes harassing her figure as it steadily rose out of the water, exposing her wet, lacey underwear. Not much was left to the imagination, not that he needed to imagine.  
"Cold?" He asked, mildly concerned.  
"You noticed?" She said with a grin. "A little. Not too cold though." She said, stretching.  
He rolled his eyes, walking towards her, the water dripping down his chest and his hair matted. He sat down next to her, keeping his distance.  
"What about you?" She turned to face him, brushing her hair out of her face a little.  
"I'm fine." He answered, matter-of-factly. He turned to face her, "You look cold."  
Her teeth chattered slightly and she shivered. "I'm fine." She muttered. She was happy there, she didn't particularly want to leave and have to lie again.  
He hesitated for a moment, before surprising himself and inching beside her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, running his hand up and down her arm.  
She looked up at him, surprised. She couldn't help but lean into him. He was so warm. "Th-Thanks" She murmured.  
"Don't get used to it." He muttered, his behaviour betraying his words. "And we're walking back to the room, like this?"  
"I never thought about that." She murmured into his shoulder. "Well it's either like this or in our wet clothes. I don't mind either." She said with a slight shiver.  
"Our clothes, Miss Adler. Don't be absurd." He replied.  
She nodded. "I might go like this though. I can't imagine how cold that dress is" Her teeth started to chatter and without consciously deciding too, she pressed herself closer to Sherlock.  
Sherlock got up, nervous by her leaning against him, and grabbed a few towels, he handed one to here and wrapped the other one around himself allowing him to be covered as he took off his trousers, boxer-briefs, and shoes.  
"Ready?" He asked her, offering her his hand.  
She took his hand and pulled herself up. "Give me a second, and feel free to look away if it makes you uncomfortable." She grinned before taking off her bra and knickers. She wrapped the towel around herself and picked the clothes up in one hand before turning back to him. "Okay, now I'm ready."


	6. Third Course

CHAPTER 6: Third Course

Sherlock averted his eyes as she disrobed. He nodded when she was done and headed for the exit. They walked back in silence, not knowing what to say in the reality of another location. He opened the door for them, letting her in first. A heavy, awkward tension descended like a London fog. Each aware of just how naked they were under their towles.

Irene walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs carefully. She looked up at him, wanting to say something but unsure what. Her eyes raked over him.

"Would you... like the shower first?" He asked, shyly, looking anywhere but her almost naked form.

She nodded. "I'll go now." She smiled and walked over to the door of the bathroom, knowing he was watching her, she dropped her towel with a grin before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

He rolled his eyes at her obvious move. He crossed to the bed and threw himself onto it. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, sighing. Too much had started to unfold, he needed to regain control.

She shut the door and closed her eyes. She had let herself get carried away at the pool, had actually enjoyed herself. She had to remember the plan. She thought about this as she turned the water on and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run over her body.

He sat up, and ran a hand through his hair, wondering how much longer she'd be. He walked over the the window and looked out. His thoughts ran over the events of the previous hours. He couldn't believe he had come so...undone...before her. She made him comfortable in a way he was not even with himself. He had actually enjoyed himself this afternoon. Something that he had not experienced for a while. Enjoyment. He groaned inwardly. How was he supposed to forget all of this...all of her...He slammed his hand on the windowsill, angry and frustrated that he had started to care...again.

She stepped out of the shower and dried herself, refusing to entertain any thought or feeling that the afternoon had risen. She was just convincing him that he needed her, that's all. She told herself as she wrapped one of the hotel robes loosely around herself and stepped out of the bathroom with a smile.

He turned around as she stepped into the room.

"Done?" He asked, matter-of-factly.

"Yep." She murmured, sitting down on the bed.

"I'll just be a minute." He muttered, crossing to the bathroom and getting in the shower.

She lay back on the bed, unable to contain the thoughts in her head. She could feel herself start to care about him again which was not good, she was supposed to be handing him over, possibly to his death tomorrow. She closed her eyes. She had to get a grip.

He showered quickly, washing his hair and body before stepping out and grabbing a robe. He put it on, adjusted his wet hair and walked out to the bedroom.

He eyed her, catching her looking out the window. She looked pensive; troubled even.

"Everything alright?" He asked slowly.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. God, he looked good. She nodded slowly. "I'm fine." She decided to lie to hide her true feelings. "Just a little worried."

He sat on the other side of the bed, his back to her.

"About your safety, I'm assuming?"

"And yours." She said quietly, this at least was true.

He frowned, "Don't waste your energy on me, Miss Adler. I can take care of myself. Though I appreciate your...sentiment." He smiled to himself; a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

She glanced up at him with a frown, ignoring his comment. "Well, I'm not going to waste time worrying about my own life. Bit late for that."

He turned to look at her. "Don't talk like that." He snapped, his mood darkening.

Her frown deepened and she sat up to look at him. "Why not? What did I say?"

"I would appreciate it if you did not talk like you were already dead." He said lowly, turning away from her.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "I apologise. I just don't see the point in worrying about my life, that's all." She shrugged.

He turned around quickly, her words infuriating him. "What do you mean by that?" He hissed.

"Well, it's not like I'm leaving much behind." She said quietly, the truth of her words sinking in. She refused to dwell. This was merely a disguise. That's all. She remembered what she had told Sherlock, 'No matter how hard you try, a disguise is always a self-portrait.'

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He asked, his face darkening.

"I mean what I said. Apart from my wealth, what do I really have?" She was speaking to herself, thinking aloud. "The best thing in my life is a man that once beat me. Not exactly a great life." She paused, realising what she had admitted.

He searched her eyes, her words hitting him in the heart. Without realising he was reaching his hand out and covering it with hers. "Miss-Iren..." He halted, pulling his hand back quickly and turning away.

Irene gulped, looking up at him. That had almost been... a moment. She disregarded it almost immediately. No, that was dangerous. She couldn't think like that.

He swallowed, his back still to hers.

"You-you have everything to live for." He whispered, more to himself than her.

She closed her eyes, she wanted to believe him, she really did. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised. No she did not. "Really? It sure doesn't seem that way." She whispered back.

"What exactly is...missing from your life?" He asked slowly, afraid of the answer.

"Something worth fighting for." She breathed, keeping her eyes shut. Hoping he hadn't heard.

"Such as?" He prompted, turning to look at her.

She shook her head slightly. "Nothing. Ignore me. I'm just... being stupid."

"Tell me." He demanded.

She opened her eyes and looked into his. "No."

"It wasn't a question." He snapped.

"I am fully aware. However, you have no authority over me." She replied coolly.

"Miss Adler stop being dramatic and just bloody tell me." He said through gritted teeth.

"And you say, I am the dramatic one. Why does it matter so much?" She asked, seriously.

He paused a moment, debating whether to open up or stay closed. He decided to relent, the subject, being her very life.

"I simply cannot understand why you think a life such as yours worthless..." He trailed off.

She narrowed her eyes. "So you think it's worth something?"

He narrowed his eyes, "Yes." It was a simple reply but it held the weight of the world.

She searched his gaze for a moment. "Okay Sherlock, please tell me which part of my life is worth something, the part where I use sex to manipulate people, The part where I use my body to get money, the part where I push away anyone I've ever cared about?" Her voice started to shake. She was losing it. Why? Why now? Okay, she didn't have the best life, who did? She took what life dealt her and made the best she could out of it. But the more she focussed on it the more... empty, she realised it was. Superficial.

He gazed at her, transfixed by her misery and beauty, all at once. She was a wonderfully horrible paradox.

"You must care about someone.." He replied quietly.

"If I do, it's irrelevant." She muttered, ignoring his questions. "I break everything I touch, I push away anyone who cares about me. I hurt them." This was no longer a disguise.

"Well what about those who care about you? Did you ever think how they would feel if you just let yourself be killed. It's selfish. You're being selfish." He retorted bitterly.

"People don't care about me, Mr. Holmes. And if they did, then it's better for them to learn quickly how nothing good can come from it." She muttered, her eyes cast down.

"I disagree." He spat, without meaning to.

She glanced up at him. "Which part do you disagree with?"

"All of it." He muttered, wishing he could retract his previous statements.

Her eyes widened slightly. No, he couldn't. "I mean it. Nothing good can come from caring about me." She whispered.

"And if someone chose to ignore your warning? What then?" He dared to ask.

"Then they are far more stupid than they like to think." She said in a rush, hating the way this conversation was going.

He smirked ironically at her statement. "That will be a first." He mumbled to himself.

She closed her eyes and lay back down. Saying nothing.

A wave of anger and pain erupted in Sherlock's heart. He stood up quickly and headed for the door, unsure where or what he was going to do, especially in his current state of dress.

Irene opened her eyes and watched him. "It's fine. Go. You don't have to come back." She murmured, hoping he wouldn't. If he left, she wouldn't have to hand him over. She smiled slightly, look how selfless she was being.

He whipped around, glaring at her. "Well it certainly doesn't seem like you want me here!" He yelled.

She nodded at him. "I can see why you'd think that." She said quietly. "Look just go, really. Go back to hiding. I'll stay here, we don't have to see each other again." She said emotionlessly.

He let out a deep groan before slamming his fist against the wall-hard. "Do you really not give a flying fuck if I just walked out?" He screamed at her, shaking his swelling hand.

Her eyes widened. It was strange really, that he was the one shouting. She eyed him, never having seen him get so emotional. It wasn't right and in that moment, she worried about him. She had a glimpse into what it was like when Sherlock spiralled.

"Where on earth did you get that idea? I'm doing this for you. Obviously." She kept her voice calm.

He took a step forward, "How is this for me?!"

"I told you" She murmured. "I break everything I touch. I hurt people. I push away the people I care about." She stepped off the bed and walked over to the window. "Go. Please."

Without intending to he crossed over to her, grabbing her elbow and turning her around to face him.

"So do I, Miss Adler. We are one and the same. Don't you see!?" He cried, desperate and furious at the same time.

She closed her eyes, unable to bear this new emotional Sherlock. "Sherlock. I will give you one last chance, because I think that is all I can handle. Listen to me. Go, now. Forget about me. Move on. Live your life. Please." Her voice broke slightly on the please and she opened her eyes.

His face twitched in anger and heartbreak. He felt like he was falling, breaking. He searched her eyes for some sort of hope. Some sign that she was lying or didn't mean it.

"No." He said lowly.

She looked up at him, her heart tearing in two. "Then there's nothing more I can say." She murmured quietly. Hating the hurt on his face.

"I'm not going." He repeated. "We both know that's not what you want." He told her, lifting her chin up to look at him.

She searched his eyes. "Of course it's not what I want." She whispered. "It's what I want for you."

He looked at her. Unsure of what to say or do. "I really loathe you sometimes." He whispered.

She smiled slightly, "I know. I really loathe you sometimes too." She murmured back.

He paused, it was an exchange of sentiment. A word substituted for the word they really wanted to say. He looked down and back up at her eyes.

"Ask me to stay." He whispered, his heart splitting in two.

"Sherlock." She barely noticed when she used his first name anymore "I can't." She whispered, pain in her eyes.

He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him. His eyes pleaded with hers.

"Say it. Don't make me beg." He demanded. Barely audible.

She couldn't stand the look on his face. It literally hurt her, her heart ached. She reached up a hand and rested it on his cheek. "Stay. Please" She whispered. Hating herself for being so selfish.

Without thinking he ran his hands up her form, cupping her chin in both hands, pulling her face up and towards his, he searched her eyes for a moment, before crushing his lips to hers, kissing her with all the tenderness this world allowed.

She kissed him back, matching his tenderness, a single tear slipped down her cheek as a wave of emotions coursed through her. He made her life worth every moment.

He deepened the kiss, his heart swelling and breaking at the same time. It was too much. He had never felt so much, so...hard before. He broke away, wiping her tear away with his thumb.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to say no." He said, lowly, his ego unable to resist.

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile. "I'm not exactly known for my ability to say no." She smirked slightly.

"Only when he comes to me." He said lowly.

"Where as, your ability to say no to me is quite impressive." She smiled.

"I have much self control...however, you seem to be the one thing, the one woman, the one person, that can break it. Brava."

She laughed lightly. "That's because I am The woman. The woman." She smirked.

"And I am?" He prompted.

"The Virgin." She tilted her head to the side with a smile.

His eyes narrowed as her words fell. His face contorted, her words slicing him. He let go of her waist and stepped away, headed for the door.

She frowned at his reaction. "So, now you leave?" She said, teasingly. "Typical virgin, always desperate for that big exit when sex is brought up." She joked, trying to relieve the heavy tension their earlier conversation had created.

He stopped and turned towards her. "Is that really all you see me as?" He spat, "A 35-year-old virgin? To be pitied and dealt with? Made fun of?" He asked, the pain and hurt in his voice evident. It a subject that was more sore than most people realised; it had been festering like an open wound for some time now, and she had just put salt in it. He turned and continued to the door.

Her frown deepened and she walked over to him. "Of course that's not all I see you as." Her tone became more serious as she realised that something that had meant to be a joke to her, was taken completely differently by him. "And trust me, I don't pity you. I'm not even sure I'm capable of pity."

He closed his eyes. "Then what the hell do you see me as?" He said quietly.

"A man who up until recently thought himself incapable of love. A man who's lonely even if he won't admit it, even to himself." She said quietly.

He smirked sadly, "That's a rather unfortunate and unattractive portrait to have painted of me in your mind. Perhaps we shouldn't do this. It's clear now, you don't really want me. You just feel bad for the lonely, isolated Sherlock Holmes. I'll get my stuff and leave. I'm not about to be anyone's pity-case." He muttered, blinking back what felt like a...tear? and crossing to his things.

She frowned at his words, did he really see it that way. "You know, for someone with your level of intelligence, you can be so stupid. Do you really think that's all I see when I look at you? Do you not know me at all. Why the fuck would I be interested in someone out of pity? You know, maybe you should leave, you clearly have some twisted view of me."

He stopped and turned back to her, his eyebrows furrowing, "Well all you could say about me was that a was a pathetic, lonely, virgin who finally found his blood heart! Do you really think that's what a man wants to hear about him out of the woman he-loves? Even I need some reassurance once in awhile. As much as I am loath to admit it, I am human after all." He retorted, his rage fuming.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, did he just say he loved her?

"I'm sorry, what was that?" She whispered.

"Nothing." He spit, turning his back towards her once more.

She reached out a hand and rested it on his arm. "Sure didn't sound like nothing." She said, a little shakily.

"What does it matter?" He asked, exhausted and closing his eyes.

"It matters to me." She murmured.

"I find that hard to believe." He replied, turning to face her, his heart in his eyes.

She searched his eyes. "What do you mean by that?" She asked intently.

"I find it hard to believe that you actually care." He answered.

She smiled slightly. "A fair statement. However, I have been giving you clues since we got back from the pool."

"And how's that?" He scoffed, oblivious.

She rolled her eyes. "Did you honestly think I didn't want you to stay? I told you. I break everything I touch. Everyone I care about gets hurt. And I push away everyone that cares about me. They were kind of obvious. Why else would I want you to leave?"

He scanned her, trying to deduce anything, and failed, like always.

"And you don't think I feel the way with you? I do the same thing. You know that. And when were you ever one to be noble?" He asked, his rage mounting.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Since I decided that there were things more important than my own life." She spat at him.

"You certainly didn't seem to think so a few minutes ago!" He replied, stepping towards her.

"I'm pretty sure that I said my life was worth nothing. Implying that there are things more important." She hissed.

"I would appreciate it if you would have a little more respect for your life Miss Adler, because, believe it or not, to some people you are their world!" He took another step forward, his teeth gritted.

"Well then, they must have pretty shit lives, if I am their world." She spat at him, the distance quickly reducing between them.

"It's only shit when you're not in it! Don't confuse the two." He retorted, nostrils flaring.

She glared up at him. "Stop it. Do not say that. If you value my sanity. Do not continue with that thought."

"Your sanity? How does that affect your sanity?" He asked, slightly confused.

"It...your life is not shit. And I most certainly am not the best thing in it." She stuttered. "So... just... stop."

Sherlock grabbed Irene, crushing her body against his. He looked down, staring into her eyes, "It is shit. It's solid shit when you're not in it to torture me and hound me. I'm chronically bored without you. For fuck's sake woman, I faked my own death! I'd rather die than live without you. I promise you that. So for once in your life stop being difficult and listen and accept it!" He paused for a moment, letting everything he had just said, admitted, told her, to sink in. He then leaned down swiftly and crashed his lips to hers.

Her hands flew up to curl themselves in his hair as his words resonated through her. She felt every defense she had ever built tumble and crash down as their lips moved together. She pushed her body against his as much as she could.

He thrust his tongue in her mouth, exploring it fully as his hands gripped her hips, pulling them against his own. He broke away and searched her eye for words.

"I-I..love you." He whispered lowly, now knowing or wanting to say anything else.

Her heart broke at those simple words. The only words she ever wanted to hear. "I..I love you too." She whispered back.

He gave her a faint smile, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb.

"I know you do." He said smugly.

She rolled her eyes, "You can't have. I didn't know until today." She murmured.

"Please, Miss Adler. Do I need to recall your passcode again?" He asked knowingly.

"Sentiment and love are not the same. Also I tried to convince myself to hate you after that day." She admitted quietly.

He narrowed his eyes, "You loved me and you know it. Your body gave you away, as did your last text." He retorted, unable to resist a fight.

She glared up at him. "I told you, love and sentiment are not the same. I started to have feelings, I admit. But then after you saved me. My life fell apart and I told myself that it was your fault. And I convinced myself that I hated you." She started to shake a little, remembering the plan. Shit. The plan.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, say what you will. I'll claim the same story." He hugged her to him.

"Fine." She said simply. Her mind somewhere else. You didn't just cancel a plan with Sebastian Moran. However, she could not just hand Sherlock over. She gripped him a bit tighter subconsciously.

He decided to relent, she seemed distant and far, he wanted-needed-her back with him. He brought his mouth to her ear, "I have always loved you, Miss Adler."

Her mind snapped back to the present, deciding to worry about Moran later. She closed her eyes and realised the truth. "I've always loved you too. I just... hated myself for it."

"Me too." He agreed. He held her for a moment, relishing in true happiness. "So, what now?" He asked lowly.

"Well, we have several options. Some delicate...some less so." She smirked, she didn't push it though, for once things were not just about sex.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I see...and what are the delicate?" He teased.

"Room service, watch crap telly?" She shrugged. "...I've run out of ideas." She smirked.

He nodded, "And the...indelicate?"

With a smirk, she leaned in close so that her lips brushed his. "Well that, you'll just have to figure out." She breathed.

His breath hitched as her lips whispered against his. His eyes darkened.

"I think I'd rather you show me." He murmured.

Her eyes glinted. "Well, if you're sure." She purred before sliding her hands down his chest and ripping open his robe. Her eyes ran down his body before returning to look into his, her own darkening.

He stared at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Someone's eager." He purred.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." She breathed.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Really? I was under the impression you weren't interested."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Do you always have to have such a smart mouth? Now is not the time." She purred, crushing her lips to his.

He smiled against her lips, unable to help himself. He wrapped his arms around her, but was frustrated by the fabric between them.

"Wait." He said, pulling back to take off her robe, tossing it to the floor.

"Much better, don't you think?"

She looked up at him with a smirk. "I'm going to have to agree with you on this one, Mr Holmes." She stepped forward so that their naked bodies were pressed together and pulled his head down to kiss him again.

His hands went to her hips as he pulled her against him. The contact of their naked bodies finally meeting was electric to say the least. He met her tongue, kissing her deeply. He ran his hands all over her body, unable to keep them in one spot, wanting to know and explore every part of her; memorize her.

Irene shivered slightly as she felt his hands all over her. One of her hands had somehow managed to curl itself in his hair without her noticing. She was stroked it. Her other hand was running across his chest, exploring the planes of muscle. She deepened the kiss, her breathing turning heavy with desire.

He moaned in her mouth as her hands raked through his hair. His blood was flowing south, at a steady speed and the friction between them was only helping. He grinded his hips against hers, running his right hand down to squeeze her arse.

She gasped slightly into his mouth as she felt his erection against her. "Someone's happy to see me." She breathed against his lips, increasing the pace of their kiss.

He attacked her lips, biting and sucking at them, awkward and clumsy but full of passion.

He felt his erection grow further and turned red, embarrassed. "Sor-sorry." He mumbled.

She smiled slightly. "This is nothing to be sorry about." She murmured before trailing her hand down his chest and stroking his erection.

His eyes widened as she gripped him, a slight moan escaping his lips.

"That feels..." He was at a loss for words.

Her smile widened. "I know, dear." She murmured before pressing her lips to his again, her fingers still wrapped around him.

He kissed her fully before removing her hand and picking her up to lay her on the bed.

"This seems more comfortable." He murmured, between butterfly kisses on her neck.

She closed her eyes with a smile, her fingers tracing patterns on his back. "You're full of bright ideas today, Mr Holmes." She murmured.

"I try." He answered, moving his mouth back to hers. He positioned his body so that it was on top of hers, placing himself down on her gently. He brought his leg between her thighs, he could feel her wetness already; he moaned at the contact.

A shiver ran through her as she felt his thigh. She moved her hands up his back, tracing patterns with her nails, slightly harder as her breathing went heavy again. She traced his lower lip with her tongue.

Sherlock groaned at her touch, his senses overloaded, and his arousal nearly paralysing. He grinded his hips against hers, His hands finding her breasts.

She gasped again and gently bit down on his lip as her back arched, leaning into his touch, her nails dug in deeper but not deep enough to hurt.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. He was insecure and unsure.  
"I'm not sure...what do I..." He fumbled for words.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "Why don't you let me take the lead?" She rolled them over so that she was lying on top of him before trailing kisses down his jaw, neck and chest, slowly making her way down his body. She paused as she reached his groin, looking up at him, she placed her fingers around his erection and flicked her tongue across the tip.

His mouth fell as she licked him. "Ahh..." He moaned, unable to form words. "Wha-what are you doing?" He finally got out.

She smirked at him. She had rendered the great Sherlock Holmes speechless, momentarily. "Take a wild guess." She purred before bending down putting her mouth around him, taking in his entire length as her tongue ran along the underside. She sucked gently.

"Jesus.." He exhaled, closing his eyes. His body was under assault, a magnificent, pleasurable assault that he had never experienced. 'God, who could want coke when you could have her,' he thought with a wry smile.

She would have smirked at him if her mouth had not been quite so occupied in that moment. She slowly started to move her mouth, her head bobbing slightly as she sucked harder.

He arched his hips up, wanting more contact. He could feel a warm, tingling sensation move across his body, "Oh, God Miss Adler.." He moaned.

She stopped her movements and gently eased him out of her mouth, she looked him in the eye and licked her lips seductively. "I thought you might like that." she purred.

He frowned at the lost of contact, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Tease." He accused.

"You love it." She winked at him. "Can't let you have all the fun now, can we?" She whispered with a smirk.

"No, we can't." He replied, swiftly rolling her on her back and pinning her down.

"Two can play that game." He said lowly, kissing her collarbone and breasts, working his way down.

She closed her eyes as his mouth left trails of fire across her body.

Sherlock kissed and lick between her chest and down to her navel, glancing up at her every so often. He made his way to her hip bones, biting at them gently. He then moved to her lower abdomen, and her inner thighs, licking down to her knee.

Irene subconsciously spread her legs as she bit down on her lip. Her body had become hypersensitive and she relished the feel of his tongue on her thigh. Her breathing became heavy.

He smirked against her skin as he kissed her thigh, moving up to her centre. He paused, hovering over her mound, his breath hitting it softly. He glanced up at her, grinning slyly.

She glanced down at him with dark eyes. "And you say I'm the tease" She breathed.

He smirked before bringing his lips to hers. He darted his tongue over her clit, lightly, increasing with speed. He brought his right hand up and inserted a finger in her easily; she was soaking.

She gasped at the contact before moaning loudly. Tiny ripples of pleasure spreading through her. She reached out her hands and threaded her fingers through his curls. "Oh.. God..." She moaned.

He smiled as he continued to pleasure her, his tongue tracing circles around her nub as he inserted another finger in her.

She moaned again as she gently pulled his hair, stroking it. Her back started to arch as the pleasure mounted.

He gave her clit one last lick before pulling back and removing his fingers from her. He sat up and gazed at her.

"You taste divine." He murmured, licking his fingers.

"Good to know." She breathed, gazing up at him with slightly wide eyes, a little shocked and extremely turned on by his actions.

He smirked, "What? Surprised?"

"Yes, actually" She admitted. "Happily so." She smirked.

"I'm glad." He smiled, coming up to kiss her.

"I think I'm ready..." He whispered.

She brought his lips down to hers and kissed him. "I think you are too." She breathed.

He positioned himself over her, bringing his cock to her entrance, he pushed into slightly, gasping at her tightness and warmth.

She gasped as she felt him enter her. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, the feeling was intense.

He pushed himself in further, not wanting to hurt her, though she was extremely wet, she was also extremely tight, and he, fairly large. He closed his eyes as he slid all the way in, opening her as their pelvis' met.

She moaned softly as he pushed himself into her completely. The feeling sharp but not painful. She gazed into his eyes, her own dark.

"Okay?" He asked softly.

She nodded and brought his face down to hers as she crushed her lips to his, the kiss full of desperate desire.

He kissed her hungrily as he began to move his hips, thrusting in and out of her. The pleasure was almost too much.

She moaned into his mouth as her nails raked across his back. She bit down on his lip gently.

He increased his speed, his own pleasure mounting as he did so. She was so wet and tight and felt incredible wrapped about him. He wanted to stay in her forever

Her back arched as he increased speed and she bit down harder on his lip. He felt incredible, better than she ever could have imagined.

He pumped fast, his fingers digging into her shoulders slightly. He could feel his climax begin to reach its breaking point. He moaned..

"I'm...I'm close." He stuttered.

She moaned as she could feel her own climax pooling in her abdomen. "Go... Go for it." She breathed.

He nodded, or tried to, as he sped up his pace. He thrusted with all his might and before he knew it, a wave of sensation and pleasure washed over him, like a wave crashing on the shore. He bucked as he came in her, unable to control his body.

Irene moaned loudly as she hit her own climax. Her body pulsed and shattered as the feeling rippled across her body. Her back arched upwards before she slumped back down onto the bed. Breathless.

He fell on top of her, breath heaving and heart racing as he came back down to earth. He took a moment before carefully pulling out of her and rolling over to stare up at the ceiling. His head was reeling.

When she remembered how to form coherent thoughts, she rolled onto her front and looked across at him. "So.. how was it? You're first time." She smirked, still a little breathless.

He glanced at her slowly, his mind still foggy and his breath still wavering.

"I..it..Fuck." He finally replied.

She grinned, "My sentiments exactly." She rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, filled with a happy glow.

"So...I was...alright then?" He asked cautiously.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, she didn't make a joke, knowing that he needed to be reassured. "Better than alright." She murmured. "And I wouldn't say that if it wasn't true."  
A small smile spread across his face. "Same to you." He teased.

"Well, thanks." She grinned.

Without warning he pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her head lightly.

"I love you." He whispered.

She smiled at his action. "I love you too." She whispered back, meaning every word.


	7. Dessert

Irene couldn't put it off any longer. She turned to Sherlock, the man she loved and placed a kiss to his lips. "I've just got to make a call, a client. I'll be back in a moment." She stood up, out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself. She picked up her phone before walking out onto the balcony.

"Hello, Miss Adler." A calm, emotionless voice spoke.

She took a deep breath. "Hello, Seb. I'm just calling to say... the plans off." She said in an attempt at a strong voice.

"Why?" Sebastian's voice darkened slightly.

"No particular reason, changed my mind. I'm rather inclined to do that." She leaned against the railing and gazed out at the darkening London skyline.

"Something's happened." He said, realisation colouring his tone.

"Nothings happened. I'm just not in the mood for your games anymore." She half spat. She took another deep breath. "I'm sure you'll get another chance."

"No can do. I want him." He hissed.

"Well, I don't have him anymore." She lied. "I don't know where he is."

"I don't believe you, Miss Adler. Oh God, please don't tell me you've fallen for him...again!?" Disbelief coloured Sebastian's tone.  
"I've not fallen for him again." She muttered. "I really have no idea where he is."

"Again, I don't believe you. You'll regret this, Miss Adler. Mark. My. Words." He spat.

Irene swallowed as the phone went dead. Not good. Very not good. She slipped the phone into her robe pocket and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths before plastering a smile

onto her face and walking back into the room.

"Sorry about that, stubborn client". She murmured to Sherlock.

He smiled at her, reaching his hand out for hers.

"I missed you." He muttered.

Her face softened slightly as she took his hand, climbing into bed next to him. "I missed you too." She murmured softly.

"Everything alright?" He asked.

She turned to face him, putting her head on his chest. "Everythings fine." She lied.

He hugged her to him, "So, looks like we're stuck together. Rather an unfortunate afterlife." He jested.

She smiled, in spite of herself. "No one says you have to stay with me. Feel free to leave if you want." She teased.

"Well if the offer still stands..." He said feigning getting up.

"I lied. You're trapped here." She said with mock horror, clinging to him.

He laughed as she pulled him down, falling into her lap.

"So, Miss Adler, what would you like to do now?" He asked with a wink.

Before she could answer, her stomach rumbled and she frowned. "It seems my body has spoken, and not in the way I had hoped." She pouted.

"Boring." He answered, with a smirk. "Fine, order some food, will you?"

"I agree. Alright give me a minute, I'll go get a menu from downstairs." She pressed her lips to Sherlocks briefly before getting out of bed. "Don't miss me too much." She winked as she opened the door.

Sherlock sat up and ran his hand through his hair. He heard his phone buzz and then buzz again, and again and again. He wrinkled his brow, wondering who would be texting so much if not her. He picked it up lazily and read the following texts:

**"Thanks to Sherlock Holmes. I now have to decrease my clientele. I cannot stand that man. He has ruined my life and I'll get my revenge. May need your help with that -IA"**

** "I hear Sherlock's been spending his 'death' spying on his boyfriend. It's sweet, really. His hopeless pining. -IA"**

** "You'll never guess who I have in my clutches. Mr Sherlock Holmes. If you want him, come and get him. You know what the price is. Hurry and reply before I change my mind. -IA"**

** "How the hell have you managed that? Never mind, it's irrelevant. You want protection, right?-SM"**

** " Of course. I would like to come out of hiding. Business is too slow. What can you offer me? And, please, reply quickly. -IA"**

"We can offer you your usual form of protection plus a personal hit if anyone bothers you? No need to reply, we know you'll say yes. Stay with Sherlock Holmes. Make him want you. We'll discuss an exchange shortly, Miss Adler. -SM"

Sherlock swallowed the knot that was in his throat. He blinked back what felt like tears. His heart felt heavy and torn-shattered. So it was all the game, after all. He should have known better. He stood up, in a daze, shocked by the new information. He got dressed quickly, his mind blank, unable to grab a solid, full thought. He packed his things, put on his coat and scarf and headed for the door.

Irene opened the door and nearly walked straight into Sherlock. She frowned. "Are you leaving? I thought..." She trailed off when she saw his face and her heart felt like it was in an iron grip.

"Tell me it's not true." He whispered, his voice barely audible.

Her heart shattered. "I take it you've heard from Moran." She whispered back, it sounded slightly strangled.

"Tell me you didn't send those." He said again, his voice breaking.

She closed her eyes, a single tear escaped but she didn't seem to notice. "I'm sorry." She choked out.

He swallowed. "Well played, Miss Adler. You win. Have a good life. However long it may last." He spat, moving past her and out the door.

"Sherlock wait!" She called after him.

He paused in the doorway, refusing to turn around.

"Everything I said, I meant it. I wasn't playing the game." She had flipped the words she had spoken to him that fateful night in Mycroft's office. "Sherlock, I love you." She whispered tearfully.

Sherlock's heart broke yet again at her words. He turned around slowly, "Then tell me they're all lies. Tell me you didn't send those."

She looked him in the eye and knew that she could not lie to him. "I can't. I sent those." She whispered.

He nodded once, turning back around. He paused before continuing. He had to know. "Was it fake?"

"Was what fake?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Are you really in danger?" He asked slowly

She closed her eyes, knowing that her next words would cause her to lose him forever. "No." She breathed.

"Then we have nothing left to say to one another. Good bye Miss Adler." He said stifly, before turning and walking away.

As soon as the door closed behind Sherlock, Irene broke down. Tears streamed down her face and a sound of pure pain and anguish escaped her mouth. The pain quickly turned to anger and she whirled around the room, throwing things and knocking things off surfaces before slowly crumpling to the floor, her body wracked with sobs.

He closed his eyes as he heard her sob, still standing outside the door. Like leaving would have been that easy, he thought foolishly to himself. A single tear fell down Sherlock Holmes' cheek. The first tear that had escaped his eyes in over a decade. He swallowed the pain down and walked forward, eyes glazed and dead.

Sherlock pulled his phone out and dialed a number he had not dialed in a very, very long time. Tonight was a danger night. And he planned on greeting it with open arms.

"The usual. And make it quick."


	8. May We See the Bill?

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up. He had dreamed of her again. He closed his eyes and sighed. It had to stop. The dreams had to stop. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dirty tunnels. He had been living underground with his homeless network for the past three weeks. He had exhausted his funds and having nowhere else to go, living on the streets was his only option. He felt his left hand twitch as he blinked his eyes, his body's need growing for another fix. He had been using again, he had to. Otherwise the dreams would keep coming. He managed to keep them at bay only when on a binge. He sighed knowing he had used his last of his supply the day before and that getting more would be incredibly hard with no cash. He heard his phone buzz-his heart rose as it always did when he heard it buzz, the possibility of her was always lurking in the back of his mind. He glanced at the text.

**"If you want to see your pretty, little girlfriend again. Come to this address. -SM"**

Sherlock read the address, frowning. Was it a trap? He wasn't sure. But he knew he would never take the chance in case it wasn't He would lay down his life for hers. He knew that.

It had been three weeks since that fateful day. The day that Irene Adler had lost everything. She opened her eyes and blinked against the light with a groan. Her head felt like it had been split in two and she reached for the sunglasses she always kept beside the bed, knocking empty scotch bottles to the floor in the process. She swore and lay back down, closing her eyes again. She turned over onto her tear-stained pillow. A pillow that had once smelt like Sherlock, now just smelt of liquor. Tears slid down her face yet again.

Sherlock stood up and quickly texted a response,

**"Don't you dare touch her. I'll be there soon. SH"**

He wiped himself off as best he could before heading to the address with a heavy heart and anxious mind.

After a few moments, Irene slid out of bed. She had been wallowing for too long. She couldn't go on like this. She stumbled to the bathroom, her head pulsing. She filled a glass of water and rinsed her mouth out, before pulling off her sunglasses and frowned at her reflection. She looked terrible. Drained of life.

She splashed some water on her face, hoping to sober herself up. It worked slightly. However when she was sober, the pain came back. She closed her eyes against the waves of emotions and slid to the bathroom floor. "God, I'm pathetic." She muttered to herself.

As Sherlock made his way to meet the infamous Moran his mind couldn't help but settle on her. His mind reviewed the days they had spent together on the run. He recalled that first awkward dinner they had shared. How tense and uncomfortable he had been, especially when she had kissed him. But God what a lovely first kiss, he decided in retrospect. He sighed and closed his eyes as his thoughts turned to that fateful first night of lovemaking. He felt his eyes well and kicked the ground with his foot hard. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, willing himself not to get emotional and swallowing all thoughts of their past down.

Sherlock approached the abandoned warehouse, tentative and cautious. He pulled out his phone.

** "Where are you? SH"**

** "Walk in and you'll find us. Hurry, I don't think she has long left. She was crying your name before. -SM"**

Sherlock put his phone in his pocket before sprinting inside. He looked around, wildly, like an animal defending its young. "Moran!?" He screamed. "Where is she?!" He wiped around on his heels, his eyes scanning the catwalks and exterior rooms of the warehouse.

A solitary figure stepped out of the shadows, laughing. "You are so easily manipulated, Holmes. Really, it's almost boring how easy you've become. Getting you here was much more elementary than I anticipated. I'm glad dear Jim isn't here to waste his time on you. He really did you in, didn't he? Your darling Irene is safely back at the hotel, drinking herself into a stupor." He paused a moment enjoying Sherlock's beginning reaction, before adding, "Your brother's right, caring is a disadvantage."

Sherlock closed his eyes in humiliation and stupidity. He should have known better. Still, he knew he would have come no matter what. If she was mentioned in any way or form, he would have come.

He opened his eyes and turned around to face the mysterious man, "Who are you?" He asked, lowly.

"Sebastian Moran. Jim Moriarty's right hand man. Well I was, until he decided to kill himself like the selfish prick he was." Moran sighed. "Still, I only have you to blame for that." His eyes glinted with malice and hatred.

"What do you want with me?" Sherlock asked, though he knew the answer.

"I want you dead, but then again, you already knew that." Moran smirked before pulling out a gun. "However, I made a promise to your girlfriend that I just have to keep." Moran stepped over to Sherlock and quickly pistol whipped him across the face, knocking him out. He pulled him over to a chair and tied him up, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Irene.

**"I have your darling prince, Miss Adler. SM"**

Irene heard her phone buzz and her eyes widened. she couldn't help the hope that bubbled up in her stomach as she stumbled up to find her phone, scrabbling until she had the text called up. Her stomach dropped and she had to fight a sudden wave of nausea.  
**"What do you want? I'll do anything. -IA"** She sent quickly, her hands shaking.

**"I want you to come rescue him. Or at least, watch you try. SM"**

Irene wished she could go back to the way she was. Only caring about her self preservation. After seeing a text like this she should flee the country. Escape. Hide. But how could she? How could she, knowing that it was Sherlock in danger...The man she loved. She gulped and splashed more water on her face, regretting her endless binge drinking the night before. She dashed into the main room and pulled on the first clothes she came into contact with. She then dashed out of the hotel. **"Where are you? IA"**

He texted her the address, **"Hurry. SM"**


	9. Cab Ride Home

Irene hailed the first cab she saw and threw money at him forcing him to go as fast as possible. After what felt like an age, she arrived and ran into the abandoned warehouse. "Moran?! Sherlock?!" She called, sounding broken.

"We're in here, Miss Adler!" Moran called gleefully.

She ran to the sound of his voice and froze as she saw Sherlock, unconscious and bloody tied to a chair. She glared at Moran with a look of pure hatred.

"Nice of you to join us." Moran said, turning towards her. "Your boyfriend put up a good fight. My fist was stronger, however. You were right though, his cheekbones are quite sharp."

She felt sick at his words, her eyes raking over Sherlock's beautiful face. It looked broken, void of life. Not just because of what Moran had done. His face looked thinner, his cheekbones even more prominent. He looked...lifeless and she couldn't help but think that she was the cause of that. "What do you want from me, Moran?" She asked, barely audible.

"Amusement?" He said with a smile, his boss's sense of humour had rubbed off on him. "No, but in all seriousness, after you screwed me over I thought I'd do the same to you. Tell me, Miss Adler, have you ever seen anyone die?"

"Yes. I have. Many times. If you did your research on me, you'd know that. I really don't see what Jim ever saw in you. You lack the intelligence." She spat back at him, pacing a little.

"You are a firecracker aren't you?" He said, his eyes raking over her form. "Still, have you ever seen someone you _love_, die?"

Irene hated the way he looked at her, almost as if she was a possession. something he could own. Well he obviously did not know Irene Adler. "I've never loved anyone." She hissed.

Moran smirked and nodded to Sherlock, "Not even the great Sherlock Holmes? Your presence here states otherwise."

She shrugged. "He saved my life once, felt like I owed him."

Moran chuckled, "So then you won't mind of I did this?" He asked, holding a pistol up to Sherlock's temple, his finger flirting with the trigger.

Irene's eyes widened in fear and she held up her hands. "Alright, alright! Just, lower the gun." She pleaded.

Moran studied her, "And why should I?" He asked evilly.

"Because you're right, I love him." She murmured. "Now, please. Lower the gun."

Moran grinned, "That wasn't too hard, was it? Tell me, would you rather me shoot him or beat him to death? Your choice."

She glared at him. "You can't honestly expect me to make a decision like that."

"Oh, I don't expect it, I _insure _it." He replied, taking the gun off safety.

She eyed the gun in his hands with wide eyed fear but knew which death she would want. "The gun. I'd rather you used the gun" She whispered.

He nodded. "I'll give you a moment to say...'goodbye.'" He smirked before walking outside.

Irene sighed and gulped, readying herself for everything that was about to happen. She walked over to Sherlock and kneeled in front of him, she placed her hands on either side of his face. "Sherlock?" She murmured softly.

Sherlock heard a voice in the distance; _her_ voice. He opened his eyes, groggily. "Ire-Irene?" He slurred.

She smiled softly. "Hello, dear. Seem to have gotten yourself in quite the pickle this time." She murmured, tears trailing down her face.

He smiled weakly at her comment. "Wh-why are you here?"

"I came here because I stupidly thought I could save you." She murmured. "Still, I had to try." She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, a watery smile on her face.

Sherlock tried to look up at her, the pain caused his head to bob and falter, however, He closed his eyes tight, his head foggy and confused.

"That was an incredibly stupid thing for you to do. Get out, now." He mumbled slowly.

"Not likely." She murmured, brushing some of the dried blood off his face. "Face it. I'm not going anywhere" She half whispered, pain echoing in her voice.

Part of Sherlock wanted to smile and thank the universe, but a larger, more dominant part refused to believe she really meant it. What she had done, no matter if she had changed her mind in the process, had been one betrayal too many. Especially after he had given himself to her so completely. No, this was another game, another plan, still, he loved her and would not allow her to risk her own life for his.

"Leave, Now It's not an option, Miss Adler." He slurred.

Irene sighed, frustration coming through even now. "Oh, and I suppose you're going to make me?" She sat down on the floor in front of him. "I told you, Mr Holmes. I am not going anywhere. Call it doing the right thing, belatedly." She murmured.

"You're going to get us both killed." He hissed between clenched teeth. "GO!"

She looked at him in disbelief and she smiled without it touching her eyes. "You really think that I'm just going to leave you to get killed? You really think I'd _want _to live if you weren't alive?" She spat at him.

Sherlock's face softened somewhat, her words hitting a chord he had permanently shut down upon reading those fateful texts. He swallowed adjusting his mask.

"I still cannot forgive you for what you did. This changes nothing, do you understand?" He asked, lowly.

She nodded slowly. "I do. Completely. I never expected you to forgive me. Hell, I'd never even ask." She smiled slightly. "But I promise you this, even if you can't forgive me, even if you stop caring. I never will. You're permanently etched into my heart, Sherlock Holmes."

He locked eyes with her, his eyes full. He gulped back words he no longer wanted to feel for her and looked away; self-preservation.

"What do you suggest we do?" He asked quietly.

She smiled slightly, "I don't know. For once I don't have a plan. When...when he comes back, he's going to shoot you." Her voice was full of pain, she sounded tortured.

Sherlock nodded slowly, the realisation hitting him.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye then." He began slowly. "Ironic how I was at your execution and now you'll be at mine..." He trailed off.

Irene half jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. Even if he hated her in that moment, she didn't care. She needed to feel him in her arms. Tears slid from her cheeks and into his curls as she buried her face in them.

He couldn't have held her to him even if he had wanted to...though he did want to...the ropes around his wrists were preventing him. He closed his eyes as he felt her cheek next to his, his heart swelling and breaking like the tides.

She placed a small tearful kiss on his cheek before slipping a small knife from her sleeve. "Keep hold on the ropes and act like you are still tied up." She breathed as she started to hack at the rope binding his wrists.

He nodded, "Follow my lead." He whispered, feigning unconsciousness.

She placed another kiss to his cheek before continuing to hack at the rope until it came apart. She slipped the knife back up her sleeve and stepped away from Sherlock, still tearful. There was still a large chance that he would die.

Moran stepped back into the room, catching her kiss him, "Aww, the lovebirds. Having a nice final goodbye, are we?" He mocked.

Irene glared at him. "You keep trying, Moran but you will never be him. There was only ever one Jim Moriarty and you can never replace him." She spat at him.

Moran smiled sardonically at her. "Insult me all you like, that'll only make me want to kill him more." He replied, nodding towards Sherlock's slumped figure.

"Well, as you pointed out, there's nothing I can do to stop you anyway." She moved so that she was standing next to Sherlock's chair, keeping close.

"Tell me Miss Adler, how was a woman of your stature so easily tricked by her heart? The curiosity is killing me." He asked, stepping closer.

She followed his movements with her eyes. "I blame films. Giving people unrealistic views on love." She joked sardonically. There was no way she was going to reveal her heart to him.

"Come now, you're not one to fall for such sappy portrayals. And neither is he." Moran replied sweetly.

"Small talk doesn't suit you." She hissed.

**"****Then I can carry on to the good bit." He replied, unlocking the gun and pointing it at Sherlock firmly.**


	10. Kiss Goodnight

Irene tensed. "Alright, alright. I'll talk. Just, lower the gun." She whispered.

Moran pointed it down, slowly. "So, tell me then, why him?"

"How can you explain love?" She asked, smiling ironically at how cheesy her words sounded. "It wasn't exactly a choice. It was just...him. It was always him." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Dear Lord, I think I'm going to vomit." Moran replied. "Besides, I thought he was asexual, or gay, or whatever?"

"Well, he obviously isn't. Not a hard deduction to make, Moran." She rolled her eyes at him.

"But you, you definitely were gay. I know that. Change you did he?" He grinned.

"I was never 'gay.' I never really had a preference." She shrugged. "Gender is irrelevant. I'm attracted to intelligence and for a large portion of my wife, woman were the only ones that could give me that."

"Oh my, how progressive of you, Miss Adler" Moran sneered.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Makes my job easier." She hissed.

Moran smiled at her again, "Alright, Miss Adler, enough of the small talk. One final goodbye then it's lights out for our dear Sherlock Holmes."

Irene bent down in front of Sherlock and cupped his face in her hands. "You better survive this, Mr Holmes." She whispered before pressing her lips to his and closing her eyes. After a moment, she pulled back, tears in her eyes and stepped to the side. That was when she noticed it. His feet. They were still tied to the chair. Her eyes widened in fear as ice ran through her veins, stabbing her heart.

"Shame, you two would have had beautiful children." Moran sighed, aiming his gun at Sherlock's head, unlocking the safety on final time.

"Please, I'm begging you. I'll do anything. Just. Don't!" She cried out, her heart splintering as she knew Sherlock would not be able to get out of the way in time.

Moran smiled evilly, "Too late for that Miss Adler, you should have realised your feelings sooner. His death will forever stain your hands, not to mention your heart." He chuckled lowly.

Moran closed an eye, aimed, and fired.

"No!" Irene screamed, her throat hitching. Without thinking about it for a moment and in the blink of an eye, she ran to Sherlock, knocked his chair to the floor and took the bullet in the abdomen, feeling the bullet tear through her as she slumped to the floor.

Sherlock scrambled to untie his feet as an intense fear and anguish seizing his chest. What the bloody hell had she done that for!? He thought, terror and fury bubbling inside of him. Sherlock turned to Moran, who appeared to be stunned, he ran and tackled him, wrestling with him a moment before grabbing his gun. He shot him in the temple quickly and efficiently, blind mad with livid fury and fie. He then ran over to Irene, scooping her up in his arms, cradling her against him, his eyes welling with tears.

"Darling, Oh my God...My darling? Can you hear me?" He asked, desperate, his voice shaking as were his arms.

Irene heard his voice from a muffled distance, feeling as though she was underwater. She fought to keep her eyes open. But she needed to see his face. Needed to know he was safe.

"Sherlock?" She murmured before gasping at the pain. She clutched her stomach with her hand. It was covered in spilling blood.

Sherlock grabbed his phone and called for ambulance. He then pushed her hand away from her wound, lightly, taking off his beloved scarf and pressing it to her wound. He held her to him, brushing away her hair with his other hand.

"You stupid, stupid woman. Why did you do that!?" He cried, tears flowing down his cheeks.

She hated the way his voice sounded, it sounded so... pained. "I...I wasn't...I wasn't going to let him kill you, was I?" She breathed, her voice stiff; talking was painful. She fought against the darkness that threatened to envelop her. She couldn't give in. She couldn't do that to Sherlock.

"Well you shouldn't have!" He spat, unable to hold back his sobs. "Oh, God...I'm sorry. For everything. I forgive you, I do. How the bloody hell could I not, my love. I've been such an idiot, letting my pride trump my heart. Such an utter, bloody fool. I love you, Irene Adler." He brought his lips to hers, kissing her as softly as he could. "Stay with me." He whispered. "You'll be alright. You have to. I'll die without you."

Irene gave him a small smile as she gazed into his eyes. "Don't apologise, my love. This is my fault. It's my fault that you were even here in the first place." She murmured in between winces. The darkness was getting heavier and she didn't know how long she could keep it at bay. "I'm trying, Sherlock. I really am. But...I don't know if I can." She sobbed. "But I don't regret it. Any of it. If I die now, I'll die happy, knowing that you're safe and that you forgive me and love me." She could feel her eyelids drift closed slowly as she fought with all her might to keep them open. "Just...don't forget me...please." She whispered.

He cracked an ironic smile at the thought of him ever forgetting her, how could she be so silly to think that would ever be possible.

"You really are stupid sometimes, you that? " He cried, "There's no need to worry about that because you aren't going anywhere, do you understand? The ambulance is on its way. You'll be fine. We'll be fine. Better than fine." He kissed her again. "God, I love you, you difficult, difficult woman!",

She laughed a little before it turned into a cough, wincing at the pain it caused. "I love you too, Mr Sherlock Holmes." She whispered, forcing her eyelids open wide. She reached up a hand, forgetting how bloodstained it was and placed it on his cheek. "I'll try and stay. For you. I promise to...I promise to try." Her eyelids fluttered closed and her hand dropped from his face as the darkness smothered her.

He held her hand to his cheek, pulling back to kiss her palm as he heard the ambulance in the distance. He pulled out his phone and dialed Mycroft. He sighed, as the tears continued to roll down his face. This was going to be an annoying and hard conversation. But he had no choice.

"Hello?"

"Mycroft." Sherlock said stiffly.

"Sh-Sherlock?"

"Yes, it's me." He answered.

"So, you faked your death did you? Bravo, you had even me convinced."

"I don't have time for compliments, I need your help NOW." He spat quickly.

Mycroft paused, surprised at his intense and immediate tone. "What have you gotten yourself involved with this time?"

"It's Irene-Irene Adler." He began, his voice hitching. "She's-she's been shot. I need you get her the best medical care in the country." Sherlock replied, his voice shaking.

"So now Irene Adler is alive as well? Looks like you've got yourself a little reunion. why do you care what happens to her? And more to the point, why should I?"

"MYCROFT!I don't have for this! She doesn't have time for this, she is dying, for God's sake will you help the woman I love or not!?" He screamed into his phone.

"You... love her?" He paused. "Alright, pass me over to the paramedics when they get there and I'll meet you at the hospital. We will talk about this."

Sherlock released a sigh of relief, "Thank you, brother. Truly."

Just then then the ambulance pulled up, Sherlock got ready to explain what had happened.

The paramedics rushed in at that moment and saw the two bodies on the floor. They rushed over to the both of them. One alive. One dead. "What happened here?!" One of the men directed to Sherlock as they strapped the woman onto a stretcher.

"That man shot my girlfriend. Business disagreements. I shot him in self-defense. Is she going to live?" He answered quickly and asked desperately.

The man nodded at his explanation, ignoring his question for the time being, not wanting to give him false hope. The police would deal with this. "So, she's your girlfriend? If we get her to the hospital now there's a good chance she'll survive, but I can't promise anything." He told Sherlock, taking Irene out of his arms and getting another paramedic to help him load her into the ambulance. "Are you riding with us?"

"Obviously!" Sherlock hissed, getting up into the vehicle. He held out his phone to the man, "Here, talk to him."

The paramedic looked at the phone a little confused. "Hello?" He talked to Mycroft a few moments, nodding here and there at what he was saying before passing the phone back to Sherlock. "She must be important." He murmured before directing the drivers.

"You have no idea." Sherlock muttered back.

Sherlock swallowed and held her hand as they rode. His mind of was spinning. So much had happened and occurred in the last hour, he couldn't keep up. The one thing he knew for certain was that Irene must live. She had to. He wouldn't be able to go on without her. In fact, he would insure it. For the first time in his life he prayed. Not to some 'God' above, but to the universe, to this strange thing called life with all of it's sorrows and joys. He prayed that she would live, survive, prevail. She was the best thing to ever happen to his life. She had taught him to not only how accept love from another, but more importantly, she had taught him how to love another. He, his ego, his brilliance, was no longer the most important thing in his life. Now it was her. It was all for her. He made a vow to himself then and there, that he intended to uphold should and when she made it through. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand and closed his eyes.


	11. Call Me?

Sherlock paced up and down the hallway of the hospital, he couldn't keep still, not when she was under the knife. He sighed wearily, briefly reviewing the past couple of hours and how many things had occurred; how he had thought his entire world lost, destroyed, dead, only to to be reunited with the centre of his world in cruel and heartbreaking ploy of fate. And now, he could lose it all again, but this time, after having won it-after having gained and exchanged and confessed everything-her. Irene Adler. The Woman, and now His Woman...but for how much longer in this life? He swallowed down the titanic lump in his throat, and rubbed his chest, his heart beginning to ache with fear and despair. He closed his eyes, only to be interrupted by the ringing of his mobile. Mycroft.

"Where are you?!" Sherlock snapped, fiercely.

"I'm on my way, calm down."

"For God's sake, hurry!" He answered, hanging up abruptly, and running a hand through his matted, tousled curls.

After about five minutes of utter agony and mounting impatience on Sherlock's end, he finally spotted his older brother, the keystone of the British government, stalk into the hospital. He paused a moment, glancing around the room with what look liked distaste. He spotted the brother he had thought dead, pausing a moment to consider him before walking over. "Tell me everything." Mycroft ordered, not one to waste words or time.

"I faked my death-that much is obvious, I'm sure...Hid out for a awhile, kept tabs on those I...left behind...I was about to figure out my next step when fate or the universe or whatever bloody nonsense it is 'people' believe in, apparently decided it for me-in the form of Miss Adler...Irene. She, uh, she contacted me, asking to meet, and, well, I agreed...how...how could I not...?" He sighed, slightly ashamed at his weakness, "One thing lead to another...we..." He swallowed, "We got...involved...And then she, well...she had had orders from one of Jim's men to 'win me back,' as it were and then turn me over...But...she...she changed her mind...But, it was...too...late by then, I found out and...didn't believe her...didn't trust her...for obvious reasons and we had...a...fight...and I...Ieft her..." He whispered, closing his eyes tight at at the ache of the memory. He swallowed, willing himself to continue. "And then...a few weeks later... Sebastian Moran tricked me into thinking that he had her kidnapped...So, obviously...I took the bait and went to rescue her...again...but, I was the fool, in the end, and he captured me and was about to kill me when...she...she stupidly tried to save me... he then captured me, notified her, of course, and she foolishly tried to then save me..." He exhaled heavily. "And...well, the rest should be self-explanatory." He said quickly and matter-of-factly.

Mycroft nodded, noticing every pause and analysing the importance. "So tell me, why did Irene Adler risk her own life, for you; especially after this supposed 'argument'?" He knew the answer of course already.

Sherlock glared at his brother, his emotions were already too heightened and erratic as it was. He did not appreciate having to explain the obvious.

"She loves me." He spat, acidly, shooting daggers at his sibling.

Mycroft sighed, his fears having been verbally confirmed by Sherlock. If there was one thing he hoped would never happen, it was this. As much as he and his little brother did not get on, as much as they had had a lifetime of bitterness and irritation with each other, Mycroft Holmes was extremely and utterly devoted and protective of Sherlock. And Irene Adler, from all he knew of her and had experienced with her, did not seem like a person, or a woman, he could trust. She had betrayed his little brother once, and now had almost done it twice, who was to say she wasn't planning a third attempt? He sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he decided to relent a bit and let Sherlock continue, before imparting him with some 'brotherly' advice. "And you love her, I'm assuming?" He asked him, though he didn't need to. Sherlock's face and air said it all. He clenched his jaw, his eyes darting around the waiting room once more before spitting out lowly, under his breath, "Did it really have to be her?"

Sherlock's nostrils' flared and his right hand flexed in livid fury as he resisted the extreme urge to punch his brother in his pointy nose right then and there.

"Yes, it did!" He hissed back at his Mycroft. "Tell me, dear brother, who would it have been if not her?!"

"Well I had been holding out hope for you and John. He's much more...tame." Mycroft leered, unable to keep himself from mocking his brother about his close friendship with the doctor. "Irene Adler will bring you nothing but heartbreak; that I assure you." Mycroft continued, sighing heavily once more before rubbing his forehead dejectedly. He had not dealt with such an emotional Sherlock in a very long time.

Sherlock's face contorted in rage and disgust. He quickly raised his right fist up and swung it across Mycroft's left cheek.

"First of all, I'm not gay and never was! Secondly, don't you ever talk about my...my girlfriend that way, again!" He screamed at him furiously, shaking his hand out as he did so.

Mycroft stumbled backwards slightly, clutching his face with his hand and scowling at his brother in shock and disapprovement. "Sherlock Holmes, if you do not calm down I will have you arrested for assaulting a government official!" He countered lowly, rubbing his cheek carefully. "You getting emotional will certainly not help her. Do keep that in mind, won't you?" He added with a hiss.

Sherlock swallowed, regaining composure as she closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply through his nose. He opened his eyes finally and nodded slowly, knowing that at the heart of it, his brother was correct. "Fine." He muttered under his breath. "What will help her, then, Mycroft? Please, I...I'm desperate...?" He sighed closing his eyes again as he fought the moisture that was forming in their corners.

Mycroft sat down in one of the many seats in the corridor. He motioned for Sherlock to sit beside him. "What condition is she in? Is she stable?"

Sherlock sat down, his face remaining forward. He talked as if in a daze.

"They're still operating...There's a good chance...but they aren't...one-hundr—" His voice hitched and broke. He cursed himself as he lost control, bringing his hands to his head. He never wanted anyone to seem him this vulnerable, to know that he was even capable of it, least of all, his older brother.

Mycroft stared wide-eyed at his brother. He had never seen him like this before; so fragile, so very near the verge of breaking. He sighed softly before muttering, "Dear God. You really do love her, don't you?" And then he did something he had only ever done when Sherlock was an adolescent-and even then it had been rare-he put an arm around his younger brother's shoulder in a physical attempt of fraternal solace.

Without realising it or consciously agreeing to, Sherlock leaned into his brother's arm, for once, grateful for the comfort of another human. "This," he began, referring to their intimate pose, "Never happened." He said, lowly, into Mycroft's shoulder.

"Don't worry, brother, I'll be deleting all CCTV footage straight away." Mycroft murmured, allowing a silence to fall between them for a minute before continuing, "She's is in the best place, Sherlock. Best in the country, I promise." He reassured him, however, he did not make the empty promises that most people made in such situations. He did not tell him that she would be fine. Chances could very well be that she wouldn't. People died. That's just what happened. The cycle of life and all that. Also, he barely knew her...One rollercoaster ride of a case, in which she nearly brought down the entirety of Britain and then, a casual meet up later, and suddenly, the man had fallen deerstalker over heels for her...Sentiment...Even his little brother had succumbed to her seductions, and at the hand of one Irene Adler. Mycroft sighed to himself. This just proved how right he was. Caring was a disadvantage.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "I know, I know, and...thank you...thank you for having her brought here." He muttered, looking up suddenly hearing footsteps approaching them. It was the same nurse that had talked to him earlier. He quickly stood up, his eyes searching hers "How is she?!" He asked frenzied.

The nurse smiled at him. "She's stable. There's a very large chance that she will make a full recovery. Would you like to see her? She's sleeping at the moment."

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, please, if I won't disturb her?"

She looked at him kindly "No, she probably won't wake up for a bit but you can try talking to her."

Sherlock nodded, swallowing. "Show me to her." He turned towards Mycroft, questioningly. "Well, are you coming?"

Mycroft studied his brother's face and sensed that he should not be alone, even now. He nodded once before joining Sherlock's side as they followed the nurse down the corridor and to Irene's room in the ICU unit.

Sherlock frowned as he entered the room and his eyes landed on her form. She looked so fragile and worn. Her face looked thinner and pasty; tired, and ill. He walked to her bedside, pulled up a chair and grabbed her hand, kissing it softly, blinking back a tear.

"Oh, my darling." He murmured.

Mycroft watched Sherlock silently from the doorway. He glanced at Irene; she looked terrible compared to when they had last met. He shifted his weight awkwardly against the doorframe and huffed to himself. The growing silence and tender display of affection before him was beginning to make him very uncomfortable. He decided to break it with, "So, brother, besides falling in love, what have you been doing since your 'death'?" He asked.

Sherlock turned and gave his brother a murderous look. "Do you mind? I've only just laid eyes on her since she was dying in my arms in an effort to save my very life. We can discuss the details later!" He whispered harshly with a dark glare. He then refocused his attention to The Woman.

"Miss Adler...Irene, can you hear me?" He asked, not wanting to wake her up but unable to stop himself.

Mycroft sighed. "Fine." He muttered, moving to sit in a chair as far away from the couple as possible before pulling out his phone.

The darkness weighed heavily on Irene and she was unsure whether or not she had died. She felt as if she was floating on nothing, unable to get a clear grasp on reality. In the distance she felt like she could hear Sherlock calling her name but she was unsure whether or not it was just her imagination taking advantage of her damaged state. She tried to move towards the sound, to open her eyelids but they were so heavy and her body and mind so fatigued.

Sherlock saw her eyes move under her lids. He tried again, squeezing her hand in encouragement for her, "Irene, darling, it's me." He murmured, kissing her hand again.

Again, she struggled against nothingness. She couldn't remember anything of the recent events and her only desire, her only want at the moment was to respond to the voice she was faintly hearing. She had to see his face. For what could have been either seconds or hours-time was indeterminable to her-she continued to struggle, until suddenly, everything seemed to snap into place. Her eyes fluttered open and she winced against the sharp, flood of light.

"Sherlock?" She murmured hoarsely.

A wide grin broke out across his face. "The one and only." He confirmed softly.

Her eyes flickered quickly to where Sherlock was seat and she mirrored his grin, hers a little more laboured though.

"Thank God you're okay." She murmured equally as softly. "I thought...I thought he was going to kill you."

"I should be saying that about you, you foolish woman. Don't you ever do that to me again, do you hear me? I thought I lost you there for a bit..." He trailed off, the memory haunting him even now.

She reached a hand out to place it on his cheek, mirroring what she had done when she was dying. She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I'm not going to apologise. But I am sorry for scaring you. However, it was...unavoidable." She pointed out, her voice slightly stronger.

He took her hand, and kissed her palm.

"I'll take the bullets from now on." He said, with a smile.

She smiled at him. "If it makes you feel better then I'll agree. However I'll never stop taking bullets for you." Irene glanced to the back of her room with a slight frown.

"Dear God, the government's here." she said with a small smirk.

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft and then Irene.

"I had to call in a favour. You should be honoured the Queen herself came to visit." He chuckled.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and Irene chuckled, the sound quickly becoming a cough however and she started to wheeze, tears in her eyes from the pain.

Sherlock quickly handed her a glass of water that was at her bedside table, lifting her up slightly so she could drink it.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

Mycroft took a step forward, taking advantage of the lull in their conversation.


End file.
